


A Winter's Collection

by casstayinmyass



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 25 Days Of Hamilton, 25 Days of Fic, 25 Days of Fic-mas, Advent Calendar, Alternate Universe - A Christmas Carol Fusion, Alternate Universe - Black Christmas Fusion, Alternate Universe - Elf Fusion, Alternate Universe - Home Alone Fusion, Alternate Universe - It's a Wonderful Life Fusion, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Holidays, M/M, Nutcracker AU, Santa Baby, Smut, The Grinch - Freeform, Updates every day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 62,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Hamilton Advent Calendar! One fic/ficlet for every day in December. Some will be original one-shots, some will be Hamilton variations of carols/traditional Christmas stories. Some will be kidfic, some will be fluffy, some will be smutty, some will have a dash of angst. All will centre around the holidays :)





	1. December 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules/Lafayette- Nutcracker AU.

 Hercules always loved Christmas. It was his favourite time of year; not only because of the snow and the sweet treats, but because of the gifts that piled up beneath the Christmas tree.

This year, the young man's uncle brought a large bag, dumping all the presents out under the huge tree in the Mulligan household. It was Christmas Eve, and the party roared as everyone opened their gifts. There were some clothes... some wind-up mice, some delicious sugarplums... and a wooden painted nutcracker. Hercules turned the small object over in his hands, immediately trying to work out how it was made. Woodwork wasn’t that far from needlework in terms of the art, and the precision of making things like this always fascinated him.

"You like him?" his uncle asked, and Herc turned.

"I do," he replied quietly, smiling softly down at the little wooden man. He was painted handsomely, darkly stained wood serving as skin. Thin strokes of a black paintbrush created a detailed beard, blue and cream coat with golden buttons painted with just as much care. "Thank you for making him."

"Figured it would be fun for Christmas... but careful- the little guy's magic."

"Magic?" Herc repeated, raising an eyebrow. His uncle nodded with a grin, but the young man just shook his head. "Right. I think I'm a little too old to believe in that stuff."

His uncle shrugged. "Well, I hope you find a good place for him, anyway. Keep him safe from your destructive little siblings.” His uncle was still treating the doll as if it was real, and Herc was perplexed. “Anyway, the party's winding down. I think I'm gonna turn in."

"G'night," the tailor's apprentice mumbled, inspecting the doll more closely. _Magic. Sure._

Heading off to bed about one hour before midnight, Hercules couldn't get the nutcracker off his mind. He had left it by the tree... what if something does happen to it?

Drifting in and out of sleep, Herc woke up when the clock struck twelve. Muttering to himself and rubbing his eyes, he padded downstairs to check on the huge tree... and couldn't believe what he saw waiting there for him.

"Holy-" he began, eyes wide and mouth dropping, but the figure before him quickly covered his mouth.

"Hush, mon chou. We do not want to wake anybody, do we?"

"Who... who are you?" Hercules asked, backing away a little, "What are you doing in our house?" Of course, he already knew the answers to those questions- he could tell by the slim, athletic build, frizzy ponytail, stylishly trimmed beard, and revolutionary coat that it was him- it was the nutcracker.

_Come to life, just as his uncle had said..._

"I do not understand," the soldier blinked, "Did you not bring me to life for a reason?"

"A reason?! Man, I didn't even know you could come to life!" Herc shot back, scrambling away.

"Zut, on Christmas Eve, too,” the soldier sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is _onarchy_.” Herc swallowed.

"Anarchy?"

"What?"

"You mean... anarchy?"

"Oui, yes- that is what I said." The soldier gave an endearing smile, and then a low, sweeping bow. "Forgive my manners- allow me to introduce myself. I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette-”

“Marie Roch Yvie _what THE F_ -?!” Herc began to sputter, but the soldier held up a hand.

“-But you may call me Lafayette or simply the Marquis." He took Hercules' hand and kissed it, at which the young man's heart beat wildly.

"Okay Laf," Herc replied slowly, and the soldier seemed surprised by the abbreviation of his name, and how it sounded when Hercules said it. Meanwhile, the tailor was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was talking to what used to be a _doll_ carved out of material wood, and was now a charming frenchman beaming before him. "Yeah… so, I'm Hercules Mulligan, a tailor's apprentice." With a nod and a somewhat melancholy sigh, Lafayette spoke up again, clearly perplexed.

"I admit, dear Hercules, that I am finding it all so, eh... how you say... _crazy_ that I am... not supposed to be alive." He looked a little crestfallen at this, and for some reason, it broke Herc’s heart to see the jovial man so sad. He took Lafayette’s hand, stroking his stubbly cheek a little and tilting his chin.

"Hey... cheer up. Now that you are alive, we can get up to some good times."

"Mmm?" Lafayette inquired, sniffing. Herc thought for a moment.

"We can drink spiked eggnog, get real drunk. D’you know what getting drunk is? Man, it’s the best.. until the morning after. Then you can come and sleep with me- I mean, b-beside me..." Herc blushed, "We could... cuddle- pals totally do that, you see- and I can tell you what it's like being... I don't know... real and stuff." Herc had begun to fiddle restlessly with his fingers, which he always did when nervous. _He was talking to a nutcracker prince, jesus christ._

"That sounds magical," Lafayette smiled, the gesture melting Herc's whole body into Christmas pudding.

"A-Awesome... what should we do first?"

"How about this, mon cher?" Laf proposed, and pressed a small, tender kiss to Herc's lips. Herc's eyes remained wide, and he stuttered. When his brain finally caught up with the action, he lunged forward, pulling the man into a tight embrace and deeper kiss.

Could nutcrackers moan? This one sure as hell could.

When they stepped away finally, out of breath and more than a little aroused, Hercules pulled a fist.

"Best Christmas ever."

"Oui, oui,” Lafayette responded, stumbling in circles dizzily, “It is most certainly the best first Christmas for me too."

Herc smiled to himself. He would make sure to kiss this nutcracker as much as he could before the night was through, just in case he turned back into wood in the morning- he already couldn't get enough of those all too lifelike lips.


	2. December 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Jeffersonian take on Santa Baby. ((Imagine TJeffs prancing around Monticello in a risqué purple robe while singing this))

 Santa baby, to do a favour would you agree, for me

Been an awful good boy

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

 

Santa baby, get rid of Hamilton's plan, that man

I've hated since this began

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

 

Think of all the fun that I did miss

Here in our new nation, want to give it a kiss

I may have misbehaved while off in France

But I'll make it worth your while, if ya gimme a chance

 

Santa honey, help James get to admittin', he's smitten

Not the 29 essays he's written, with me!

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

 

Santa cutie, there's one thing I want that you've got, a pot

Of mac and cheese, a whole lot

Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight

 

Santa baby, I'd sure like Washington to abide, my side

A cabinet meeting _I_ could preside

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

 

Come visit me at home, can ya?

I've got a nice place here in South Virginia

I wrote the declaration of independence

Gimme the love I deserve, if not for my brilliant incandescence

Santa baby, forgot to mention one thing, hello

Pink satin sheets for my Monticello

Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight

Hurry down the chimney tonight

Hurry, tonight


	3. December 3

John knew his family was well off. His father had a lot of money, and by proxy, his mother did, which meant he could have anything his little heart desired. Around Christmas, this meant going shopping at the toy store- it was a big affair. John was encouraged to make a list of all the new toys he wanted, and he would go and help pick them out in the little specialty store off of 34th.

The thing was, John was a simple boy. At nine years old, he didn’t want as much as a rich little kid should… all he wanted was love from his family, which their money made up for instead. But John knew it made his mother feel better if he picked a bunch of toys for Christmastime, like they were giving him something of a happy life, so he obliged.

That afternoon, the three stood in the store, the little South Carolinian inspecting a music box he liked. It had a ballerina that twirled with the music, the sweet melody drifting out over them.

“Pick something for boys,” his father said sternly, grabbing the box and putting it back on the shelf, “Like a toy gun, or a ship.” John sighed, averting his eyes from the pretty music box over to a display in the window with a grand ship that looked like something out of the colonial era. It was very nice… not something John particularly wanted, but-

Then, John saw him. The boy peeking in through the glass, eyes fixated on the ship he had previously been looking at. His eyes were a deep, captivating brown, his long-ish hair falling around his face. He had a prominent nose and seemed a little short, even for his age… and he was cute. John, despite his youth, had realized he was a little different than other boys, in that he had urges to kiss other boys sometimes. He constantly heard his parents talk about how wrong that sort of thing was, but as far as John was concerned, if it didn’t hurt anyone, it didn’t matter. He watched as the boy grinned at the ship, obviously fantasizing about owning it.

Then John’s attention fell to the tattered remains of what should have been a coat on the boy’s shoulders, and looked down at his own fine clothing. That’s why he was looking in… he couldn’t afford it, John thought, his heart breaking a little. The boy just looked so enthusiastic and excited by the ship, just a simple toy, that John had so many of like it at home. What would one toy do to brighten this boy’s smile even more?

“Dad,” John tugged at his father’s sleeve. His dad looked down expectantly.

“Find something?”

“Yeah,” John muttered, pointing to the ship, “That one, there. I think it’s pretty cool.”

“Nice choice, hun,” his mother smiled, patting him on the back. John mumbled a reply, and the shopkeeper went over to get the toy from the display in the window. John looked over, and saw the boy’s face fall, eyes dropping and smile faltering. It hurt him to see, and for a second, their eyes met. The boy’s eyes widened a little, as if he had just seen something beautiful, then they dropped again, as he turned to walk away. John quickly turned back to where his parents were buying the ship, and grabbed it once it was his.

“Hey!” he shouted, the bell of the door jangling as John ran out, “Wait!”

The boy turned curiously, and John beckoned for him to come over. When the boy approached, blowing hair out of his face, John swallowed, suddenly a little speechless. “U-Um… hi,” he managed.

“Hello,” the boy nodded, sticking his bare hands in his pockets.

“What’s your name?” John asked.

“Alexander Hamilton.”

“You got parents? Any money?”

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” Alex began, backing away, and John realized he must get accused of trying to steal a lot if he looked this poor.

“N-No, I wasn’t- wait,” John said, walking closer, “I was just asking because… well, it didn’t look like you did.” Alexander kicked the ground.

“I don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” John murmured, in awe of his presence. Then he shook his head furiously. “W-Wait, no! Not okay! I saw you looking at the boat.”

“Yeah,” Alex shrugged, looking up, “It’s a nice boat, I like it. Now it’s yours.”

“Wait,” John muttered, and practically thrust it into Alexander’s hands. The boy looked shocked, and almost dropped it.

“I… I can’t take it, it’s yours. That would be stealing,” he said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not stealing if I’m giving it to you, dumbass.”

“Sorry…” Alex mumbled, cradling the toy in his small arms, “It’s just… people always expect something in return when they give me stuff. T-Thank you… thank you so much.”

John bit his lip, staring at him. Looking at the boy before him, he suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to-

John’s lips gently touched his in a chaste, experimental kiss. He may have dreamed of kissing boys, but he had never done it before.

“Oh!” Alex gasped.

“Oh?” John worried, pulling away.

“ _Oh_ ,” Alex sighed, stepping up on his tip-toes to press another, longer kiss to the taller kid’s lips. Suddenly, the door of the shop banged open.

“John, where did you…” his father faltered, crossing his arms. “Who’s this, now?”

“My friend!” John said quickly, “H-He’s in my class at school, and… his parents got drunk last night and left him out here all by himself! I couldn’t believe it when he told me, dad.” John’s parents looked to Alexander, once-overing his clothes.

“Is that what happened?” Henry Laurens asked Alexander, and the boy just nodded quickly, keeping his mouth tightly sealed.

“Oh, sweetie, how terrible,” John’s mother fussed, rushing over to take Alex’s hand, “You can stay with us until your irresponsible parents figure themselves out!”

“Darling-“ Henry began through gritted teeth, but this time, his wife was having none of it.

“Do you like hot chocolate, hun?” she asked as they walked with their bags and bags of toys, and John held Alex’s boat for him, their hands brushing.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered, and the smile Alex gave him made it all worth it.


	4. December 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Grinch" starring our lovable King George.

Every free thinking man in the colonies liked Christmas a lot...

But King George, who lived across the sea, did NOT!

King George hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season!

Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.

It could be his crown didn’t fit his wig just right.

It could be, perhaps, that his red breeches were too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all,

May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

Whatever the reason, His heart or his crown,

He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the town,

Staring over from his throne with a sour, Kingly frown,

At the warm holiday ball, girls below in their gowns.

For he knew every colonist down overseas,

Was busy now, dressing from head to their knees.

"And they're celebrating their freedom!" he snarled with a sneer,

"Tomorrow’s the day! It's practically here!"

Then he growled, with his Georgie fingers nervously drumming,

"I MUST find some way to stop Christmas from coming!"

For tomorrow, he knew, all the free girls and boys,

Would wake bright and early. They'd rush for their toys!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise!

Noise! Noise! Noise!

That's one thing he hated! The NOISE!

NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then the Schuyler sisters, the envy of all, would host a great dance.

And they'd dance, And the dance, And they'd DANCE!

DANCE! DANCE! DANCE!

They would feast on their cake, and Jefferson’s rare mac and cheese.

Which was something King George couldn't stand, no, _god_ please!

And THEN they'd do something he liked least of all!

Every colonist in America, the tall and the small,

Would stand close together, with their petty declaration.

They'd stand hand-in-hand. Celebrate their new nation!

They'd sing! And they'd sing! And they'd SING!

SING! SING! SING!

And the more King George thought of this terrible tradition,

The more the monarch thought, _"I’ll stop their fun, I’ll make it my mission!_

_Why, we made an arrangement, I’m so blue!_

_They claim every year I oppressed them! Not true!"_

Then he got an idea… an awful idea!

KING GEORGE GOT A WONDERFUL, AWFUL IDEA!

"I know just what to do!" George laughed in his throat.

He dressed in his finest white fluffy coat.

And he chuckled, and clucked, "What a thought from above!

I’ll steal all their gifts to remind them of my love!

All I need is a subject..." King George looked around.

But, since subjects are scarce, there were none to be found.

Did that stop the mad king? No! King George simply said,

"If I can't find a subject, I'll call one instead!"

So he called his loyal friend, Samuel Seabury, so astute,

Sammy wrote some free thoughts, something no one could refute.

Next George loaded some bags and as snow began to flurry,

On a ramshackle sleigh, he brought along Seabury.

Then King George said, "Da da da da da!" And the sleigh started down,

Toward the homes where the colonists lay asnooze in their town.

All their windows were dark. Quiet snow filled the air.

And all those were all dreaming sweet dreams without care.

When he came to the first little house on the square.

"This is stop number one," the King Georgie did mutter,

“When I said they were mine, I don’t believe I did stutter.”

Then he slid down the chimney, colder than Valley Forge.

But, if Santa could do it, then so could King George.

He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.

Then he stuck his head out of the fireplace flue.

Where the portraits of Washington, hung in a row.

"These paintings," he grinned, "are the first things to go!"

Then he slithered and slunk, with a smile most unpleasant,

Around the whole room, and he took every present!

He adorned the wall with grand portraits of himself.

He pinned up the British flag, he lined every shelf!

"And NOW!" grinned King George, "I’ll stuff up their decree!

The declaration of independence, I'll burn it, yippee!”

King George grabbed Jefferson's pride and his love, 

Then heard a small sound like the coo of a dove.

He turned around fast, and he saw a small man,

Little Alexander Hamilton, whose skin was so tan 

King George had been caught, red handed in his crown,

By Hamilton, who was up to just write something down.

He stared at King George and said, "Why, King George, why?

Why are you taking our declaration? Why?"

But, you know, that the King was so smart and so slick,

He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!

"Why, my sweet little tot," the flamboyant king did dispense,

"There's a phrase in this passage that just doesn’t make sense.

I’ll take it home with me, son, don’t fret.

I'll fix it up there, and be back in a jet!"

Alexander frowned, didn’t like that a ton,

He grumbled under his little breath, “Don’t call me son.”

But George just got him some water and sent,

Alex back to his writing, which he would not relent.

And when Hamilton went off to write with his cup,

George went to the chimney and stuffed the page up!

The last thing he took was the log for their fire,

Then he went up the chimney, himself, the old liar.

"PoohPooh to the colonists!" he was said with a great, pompous cluck,

"They're finding out now there's no Christmas, good luck!"

So he paused. And King George put his hand to his ear.

And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.

It started in low. Then it started to grow.

But the sound wasn't sad! Why, this sound sounded merry!

It couldn't be so! But it WAS merry! VERY!

He stared down at America, King George popped his eyes!

Then he shook- what he saw was a shocking surprise!

Every colonist down in the states, the tall and the small,

was singing, without their declaration at all!

He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME!

Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And King George, with his shined shoes ice-cold in the snow,

Thought: "I’m perplexed- how could it be so?"

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.

Then King George thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from independence…

Maybe Christmas...perhaps… doesn’t have to make sense!"

And what happened then? Well...in America they say,

That King George’s small heart grew three sizes that day. 

The jolly good king, reformed by their spirit,

called out a phrase, to any colonist who would hear it,

He beamed and he opened his arms in a bow,

exclaimed: “Merry Christmas to all- awesome, wow!”


	5. December 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Jeffmads- Thomas and James plan Christmas dinner.

“Christmas is fast approaching, Jemmy, and we still don’t know what we’re going to serve for dinner.”

“Anything but mac and cheese,” James mumbled, not looking up from his book. Thomas sauntered over, reading the title of the book the shorter man was engaged in.

“Mmm, interesting read. You know what’s even more interesting?”

“You?” James sighed.

“Me,” Thomas grinned, plucking the hardcover away and laying it aside. He then proceeded to press kisses down James' stomach, nudging between James' legs until the man below him began to shift uncomfortably. 

“I thought we were talking about dinner,” James said, raising an eyebrow, and Thomas settled his head in his husband’s (tented) lap instead.

“We’ve invited both of our parents, which will be _oh so_ much fun listening to your mother complain about our drapes.”

“They are purple,” James winced.

“They’re _merlot_ ,” Thomas corrected with a scowl, “Doesn’t change the fact that Eleanor’s a royal bitch.”

“Your father’s homophobic,” James pointed out.

“Nobody’s perfect, James."

"But we're ga-"

"Anyhow, we’re going to make this work, so that when we start our own family…” Thomas walked his fingers up James’ chest, “Everyone is happy.” He paused. “One comment about the damn drapes, though, and I'mma throw her the fuck out.”

“Back to the dinner?”

“Right… so I know candied yams are always a hit, and your pumpkin pie steals the show… what else?”

“Ham?”

Thomas shuddered. “Turkey, please. Ham makes me think of…” he swallowed, picturing his obnoxious coworker, “ _Alexander_.” James rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. We need to make up for it in vegetables too, though, because your mother went vegan, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Thomas muttered, “Okay, fine- like what?”

“I don’t know… put the culinary mastery you learned in France to good use.”

“What about brussel sprouts, in a light browned butter?”

“My father has heart problems, he doesn’t do butter anymore.”

“Jesus fuck, always something with that guy. You’ll provide him his sodium-free swill, then?” Thomas huffed.

“Well, we’ll see how it goes.”

“A'ight. Let’s go shoppin’!” Thomas announced, rubbing his hands together and launching himself off of the couch.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” James asked, staring up at his bouncing husband towering over him.

“What?” Thomas frowned, his brows furrowing adorably, “We’ve got the yams, the veggies, the turkey, the pie… what’d I miss?” With a smirk, James tapped his lips, and Thomas’ clouded expression cleared, a bright smile beaming out.

“You’re a damn sap,” Thomas whispered, collapsing back on James and almost crushing him with a kiss.

“You require a lot of TLC before your parents arrive,” James gasped, “I’m the resident holiday peacekeeper, and have to take my duties seriously.” 

“I love you,” Thomas mumbled against James’ lips, “Much, much more than I love your mother.” James sighed.

“I caught that drift when you started defending our horrible drapes.”

“You think they’re-!”

James quickly dragged his husband in for another kiss, to avoid a famous Jeffersonian Meltdown™- that’s one thing they could definitely save for Christmas dinner.


	6. December 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, ft. Lams and Mullette- It's Christmas morning following a night of drunken cheer, and it takes a while for Alex, John, and Herc to remember just where they left their friend.

“Man… last night was the bomb,” Herc laughed, wiping his eyes and clutching his stomach. Alex turned over from his place on the floor, groaning through the drool leaking from his mouth. It was Christmas morning, and everyone had had the best Christmas Eve of their lives in their cozy three-bedroom.

“You know what cures hangovers?” John giggled from the kitchen, “Greasy eggnog zucchini power shakes!”

“Awww,” Herc grimaced, feeling the vomit rise.

“Why do you even exist?” Alex moaned, covering his ears. John just kept laughing himself into a fit, bending over then _falling_ over. His hangovers never kicked in until at least noon the next day, so he was still shitfaced.

“Nah, but I do love me some eggnog, though,” John commented, staring up at the ceiling fan and the mistletoe hanging off of it. (Alexander’s idea, probably because he had kissed every one of their friend group at least once and wanted an excuse to up those statistics.)

“Honestly… same,” Herc mumbled, pulling himself up on the couch.

“Can you all stop talking about eggnog, before I barf all over your faces?” Alex snapped, curling into fetal position.

“You’re a grumpy drunk,” John giggled.

“No, I’m a fucking hungover drunk. Let’s not forget this was my idea last night, so I’m pretty fucking fun, okay?!” he bit at his boyfriend. John threw his hands up in defeat, accidentally smacking himself in the face and laughing at that too.

“What did we even _do_ last night?” Herc asked, scratching his head.

“We got smashed,” John informed him.

“Thanks, Mr. Helpful.”

“Did we all fuck?” Alex asked, “Cause my ass is sore.”

“Nah babe, your ass is sore ‘cause we played pin the tail on the immigrant last night.”

“Oh shit, okay…”

“I feel like we watched the Polar Express too, and took a shot every time that little know-it-all shit opened his mouth,” John murmured thoughtfully.

“Oh yeah… we named him Jefferson,” Herc nodded, then looked up. “Who put all this mistletoe up?”

“Meee,” Alex moaned, knocking his head against the carpet, “I thought it would be festive.”

“Yo, it’s everywhere- let’s have an orgy,” John grinned.

“Let’s not,” Herc corrected, crossing his arms.

“Right, like you would pass up the opportunity to get into Laf’s pants,” Alexander snorted. Suddenly, all three looked at each other, eyes blown wide.

“LAFAYETTE!”

The door to their shared townhouse slammed open, to find their French friend right where they had left him the night before… on their lawn, built into a snowman.

“Laf, Laf, Laf, oh my god,” Hercules chanted, digging through the snow as all previous symptoms of his hangover quickly dulled. The frozen Frenchman simply stirred, and grinned a hazy smile up at his savior.

“Bonne fête!”

“Laf!”

“Hercules, mon ami,” he slurred, “What year is it?”

“Shit, I can’t believe we left him out here,” John muttered, and Alex hopped from foot to foot beside him, teeth chattering.

“I can’t believe he _survived_.”

“Are you okay?” Hercules asked, dusting all the snow off of Laf and supporting him with his large arms.

“I do not know,” Laf frowned a little, “I cannot feel a thing.”

“Frostbite, check for frostbite!” Alex called.

“Oh yeah-“ John added, “My mother gave us that new knife set for Christmas, remember? They’re real sharp- we’ve gotcha covered, Laffy Taffy!”

“Pardonez-moi?” Laf asked, eyes widening, and Herc shook his head.

“He’s still drunk. Oh god, your lips are blue… how did this even happen?”

“Well… we were… all doing shots last night watching the Polarized Expressway, then we watched, eh… Frosty the Snowman. After that, we all thought it would be funny if I turned into a snowman, and John suggested that we put me out here and roll me up. Alex joined in, and suggested we see if Santa turns me into a real one overnight.”

“I’m never letting those two near tequila again,” Hercules sighed, rubbing his hands along Laf’s face to warm him.

“I am alright, mon ami,” Laf smiled, “A little bit froid, but… I am whole and well.” Herc picked him up and carried the tall but nimble Frenchman through the doorway.

“Did you meet Santa?!” Alex asked, his hungover grumps clearing for a second excitedly.

“Oui, I did,” Laf deadpanned, glaring at him, “And after he turned me into a great, magical snowman, he told me to tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“OH!” John gasped, covering his mouth, “You could roast some _serious_ chestnuts over that one!!” Alex looked at his boyfriend, who deflated a little.

“Speaking of burning,” Hercules fussed, “Let’s get you in front of a fire.” They turned up their gas fire, and sat Laf down in front of it, in a large bundle of fluffy reindeer blankets.

“I feel like a cupcake,” Lafayette murmured, nearly buried under the avalanche of comforters he had piled over him.

“You’re a cute cupcake, though,” John pointed out.

“Hashtag jealous,” Alex grumbled, pouring himself some black coffee.

“Laf needs all the warmth he can get,” John shrugged, going over and patting the cozy lump of blankets.

“Hey…” Herc smiled softly, coming over to sit by Laf, “You good now?”

“I am significantly better,” Laf smiled back, eyes brown and dancing in the firelight, “I am grateful every day for friends who remember to bring me back in after they leave me in a snowman the night before in a drunken stupor.”

“You were drunk too,” Herc chuckled.

“I was,” Laf grinned, “But Hercules?”

“Yeah, man?”

“There is just one little thing. Alexander moved the mistletoe… and my lips are still cold as a frozen pond,” he smiled. Herc’s eyes widened, and he licked his own lips nervously.

“Uhmm…” he whispered, then felt two feet kick him in the back toward Laf. 

“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!” Alexander yelled, and Herc and Laf made that Christmas morning so much sweeter with a kiss.


	7. December 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas Carol AU- starring Burr as Scrooge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really long lol but there was so much to work with here.

Hamilton was dead, to begin with. If that is not distinctly understood, nothing good can come of this story. 

Now, you could say that Aaron Burr wasn't the most liked man in New York City... but he hadn't always been so disliked. Years ago, in his professional prime, he had many a businessman on his side, with his successful law firm. But time hadn't been kind. The poor got poorer, the rich, including Burr, got richer, and ever since his business partner's death, money was the only thing Burr had room in his cold heart for.

On his way out of the firm and home to his three story walk up, Burr turned around, feeling a chill. The sign above the door still read "Hamilton & Burr, Attorneys At Law," but with the inclement weather, snow had frozen over Alexander's name.

 _For the best_ , Burr scowled to himself as he turned back around, _he's been dead for seven years, he should stay that way._

Still, he couldn't help but remember the talkative little man he had grown so in-tune with over the years. They had met in their apprenticeship days, under the charitable business Washington had offered them as clerks, then had followed each other to the next company, when Jefferson and Madison had offered them even better pay. Over the years of steadily climbing ambition, the two had put Washington out of business, and eventually, even Jefferson and Madison.

Burr thought back to how conflicted Hamilton had been when they were buying up Washington's shares... he had always had a soft spot for the old man, which Aaron just didn't understand. Business was business, and it paid off.

For a time.

With unthinkable power, came terrible loneliness, and they became the most powerful men in the city, prosperous wealth flooding in as they built their business to new heights. Women were climbing all over them; Burr even proposed to the prettiest girl he had ever met...

He shook his head, gritting his teeth through the blowing snow. Old memories needed not be resurfaced- getting home to his fireplace and bread is all he had to think about.

 

Hanging his coat inside the door, Aaron rubbed his hands together as his breath appeared. He had piles upon piles of money stacked away, but coal was just so damn _expensive_. Why should he waste it? In his opinion, men and women wasted far too much money this frivolous time of year- why, just that day, the two immigrants came into his office looking for charitable money from him! The Irish one, Mulligan, had told him all about their organization, the cheerful french one, Lafayette, going on to explain all about the poor, helpless people on the streets. Of course, Aaron had dismissed them out of hand- if people couldn't survive in this economy, why should it be Burr's responsibility to pick them up again? People were staving off the inevitability of their deaths... he'd rather wait for it.

Before he finally settled back into his comfortable armchair, he lit a small fire on the third floor, pulling his dressing gown tighter. Tonight was Christmas eve... but Burr didn't see the use in the holiday. His parents had died on Christmas... Alexander too... nothing good ever came of the day, so why celebrate alone?

Just as he lifted a chunk of bread up to his mouth, he heard a sound downstairs... a knocking on the door. Aaron checked the time on his pocket watch. Well, it was the middle of the night! The only person who would ever come knocking this late was...

Burr got up, eyes jumping around uneasily. His spacious bedroom cast shadows that unnerved him... he reached for the bolt on the door, but stopped when the knock sounded again. But this one was different- this knock was on the staircase.

"No," he murmured, backing away and shaking his head adamantly. The noises continued all the way up the stairs, until there was a sharp, undeniable rap on the wood. "G-Go away!" Burr shouted at the door, quickly latching it and huddling by the chair, but the door swung open despite the chains to reveal- "No," Aaron cried again, "This isn't happening. I'm... I'm dreaming, I'm-"

"Pardon me," the spectre at his doorway said, giving a little bow. Aaron blinked ten times, his heart skipping a beat as he stared his old, _very dead_ , business partner in the eye.

" _Alexander_?"

"Aaron Burr, sir," the ghost smiled, coming in.

"What..." Burr gulped, "What do you _want_?"

"Can we confer, sir?"

Aaron was at a loss for words- he was obviously imagining all this, but still... this dream had gone on long enough to become uncomfortable.

"It's... it's the middle of the night," Aaron choked out, "I-"

"Doesn't look like you were doing anything else," Alex shrugged, coming in and sitting down in his chair- could ghosts do that?- "Except for being miserable and all."

"What are you doing here?" Aaron asked. If this was a dream, he obviously couldn't escape.

"Burr..." Alexander started, kicking his feet up on the arm of the chair, "You were always a better lawyer than me."

"O-Okay," Aaron swallowed.

"You still are... I mean, look at all the money you've stuck away over the years? You're the richest man in the city. In the state, probably!"

"And?"

Alexander shrugged again. "I'll be blunt-"

"What a shock," Aaron found himself muttering under his breath.

"-And tell you exactly why the hell I'm here. I'm not a dream, Burr. It's really me, and you're in a shitload of trouble."

"And why, pray tell?" Aaron snapped. He forgot just how much his former partner could get on his nerves.

"See these chains?"

Suddenly, yards of chains materialized around Alexander, Aaron's eyes widening at the sight.

"Why?"

"We were wrong," Alex said, getting up and kneeling in front of Burr, "Aaron, we were wrong."

"What are you ta-"

"All the businesses we bought out- all the lives we ruined? What did I always say?"

Burr averted his eyes. "When you've got skin in the game, you stay in the game. You don't get to win unless you play."

"That's right, you get love for it, you get hate for it, you get nothing if you wait for it."

"And that was smart advice, from a smart man-"

"Don't you get it?!" Alex suddenly snapped, standing up again. "That advice got us into this mess!"

"What mess? We were rich! _I'm_ rich-"

"All for what? Making people's lives miserable? Making your own life miserable? You remember Theodosia, don't you?"

"Don't you dare," Aaron growled, clenching his jaw at Alexander. The ghost put his hands up.

"You could have been happy. We were happy, for a while. Until we became corrupt. We let money, wealth, power take over our lives, I let an affair hurt my family- all because I didn't care. Now I'm paying the price for it in death, and you're going to as well."

"What?"

"I'm here to warn you, Burr! You don't have to end up like this! Open your heart for once, _don't forget from whence you came_."

"I'd really like to wake up now," Aaron muttered, and Alex shook his head.

"I knew you wouldn't listen to me- you never did."

"That's because you talked so damn much, I didn't know when to listen for something important!"

Alexander looked mildly offended at this, but went on. "I set up something of a rendezvous for you tonight."

"My sex life is just fine, thank you."

"Burr, you dog, I didn't know you were getting any! You should've told me!"

"Okay, a) I'm not about to hold a séance whenever I get laid, and b) what is this rendezvous about?"

"Right, right. You're gonna get a visit from three spirits tonight, Aaron."

"Fuck."

"Yeah," Alexander crossed his arms, "I don't want to hear you complaining about how heavy _your_ chains are for eternity with me."

"Wait... if I'm stuck in limbo, I'll be stuck with you forever?" Aaron asked, eyes widening.

"Well, I mean, probably-"

"When do these guys arrive?" Aaron yelped.

 

When the bell tolled one, the first spirit appeared in a blinding flash of light, waking Aaron upon arrival. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Are you the first ghost?"

"I am," the spirit replied. Aaron felt he recognized the voice, but he couldn't see the tall form through the brilliant light.

"Could you, uh... tone it down, a little?" Aaron asked.

"You want me to tone down the very glow that keeps mankind from darkness?" the spectre boomed, and Aaron cowered a little.

"N-no, nevermind, no disrespect meant... sir." The tall spirit's voice became a little gentler, and the glow faded anyway.

"Rise up and come with me, Mr. Burr."

"Washington?" Aaron marvelled, backing against his bedpost. The spirit shook its head.

"I am not the Washington you know, but we spirits of Christmas take on the form of people you've known in your life. I'm going to show you your past- follow me."

"B-but-"

"That's an order," pseudo-Washington commanded, and Aaron quickly obeyed. In a flash, they were in a scene from Aaron's past.

"This is your old business," Aaron mumbled, watching the bustling, happy people dancing at the Christmas party he remembered so vividly. He saw Alexander, dancing with two ladies on each arm, one his then sweetheart Eliza and the other Eliza's sister Angelica. He saw Washington himself and his wife Martha enjoying the music, his and Alex's very first employer spinning Martha to the jolly tune. Aaron chuckled despite himself, which Washington raised an eyebrow at.

"What's so amusing?"

"Well, the fun they're... _we're_ all having!" Aaron smiled, "I just... I haven't heard the sound of laughter in so long."

"You didn't know Alexander that well here... he was friends with that boy, Laurens- you were too studious for his tastes."

"Yeah," Aaron murmured. He was always the one hunched over the books with a quill, and though Alexander did the exact same, he made time for leisure. Burr wasn't much of a people person... still wasn't. 

"Do you remember where you were this night?" Washington asked, and Aaron looked down.

"I do."

They walked over to an old vision in an alcove of the venue, of a much younger Aaron, beaming at a beautiful girl in an enchanting but simple yellow dress.

"Dear Theodosia, will you be mine?"

"But I'm promised to another," the girl feigned with a bat of her eyelashes, even though it was evident she was teasing, "He's all the way out in Georgia, waiting for me."

"He can stay in Georgia," Aaron smirked, "I want you all to myself up here in New York."

"Oh, Aaron," she giggled, letting him kiss her hand. He then produced a ring.

"Would you?"

Her eyes welled up, and, speechless, she nodded, kissing him. Aaron looked away from where his younger self was wrapping the girl up in his arms and holding her tight.

"You love her," Washington stated.

"Loved," Aaron corrected sharply, "Can we go someplace else?"

Washington just shrugged, and changed the vision.  Now they stood in an office, where Hamilton and Burr sat on one side and Jefferson and Madison on the other.

"51 percent?" James asked, pattering his fingers against the table thoughtfully. He looked perplexed.  

"That's right," Hamilton grinned, inspecting his nails, "We're taking those shares."

"That's outrageous," Thomas spoke up angrily, "You'd own the company if you owned that much!"

Aaron and Alexander smirked at each other, and Thomas and James began to realize... they already _did_ own the company. Washington looked over. 

"You bought them out a few years after they offered you positions."

"We seized the opportunity we saw," Burr defended, "It was only a matter of time, we were on the rise after we agreed to work together."

"Have you an ounce of regret?" vision-Jefferson hissed across the table, and Hamilton grinned wickedly at him.

"When you've got skin in the game, you stay in the game. We're all smart men here, Jefferson. Surely you can appreciate when you've been _out_ smarted... right Burr?"

Madison put a hand over Jefferson's chest as the taller stood up in preparation for a fight. He whispered something in Jefferson's ear, and Aaron and Alexander just held their smug smiles. It made Burr feel a little sick to watch.  

"Now, I could show you your mother's death to scare some sense into you," Washington said sternly, putting a hand on Burr's shoulder, "I know that was traumatic." Aaron whipped around.

"Please-"

"But I'm going to show you something a lot more painful."

They appeared in the scene of a house, Aaron pacing by the mantle. At the table, a young woman sat, playing with the ring she wore.

"No, spirit, please," Aaron began to panic, but Washington held Burr in place to watch.

"You don't love me anymore," Theodosia said softly, wiping her eyes.

"I never said that," Aaron snapped, "Stop putting words in my mouth."

"You didn't have to say it, I just know it," she responded, looking down at her lap.

"That's ridiculous," Aaron muttered, "Of course I love you, look at all the things I've bought you! We're getting married in a month, I already bought the walk-up place, your diamonds, your-" 

"The Aaron Burr who proposed to me didn't have any money," Theodosia sobbed, "All he had was love for me. I don't want your money, Aaron, I want you to keep my bed warm, I want you to kiss me in public like you don't care who's watching, I want you to _love_ me again!"

"Some things just aren't realistic," Aaron said through gritted teeth, "The world is a cruel and unforgiving place, you need to work hard to survive."

"We can get through it together," Theo murmured softly, trying to stroke his face. Aaron leaned out of the touch, and Theo gave a small smile. "So, it's true."

"What?" Aaron sighed.

"I release you then, Mr. Burr."

"What are you-"

"May you be happy in the life you've chosen," Theo whispered, placing a kiss on Aaron's cheek, and left her ring on the table before leaving. The younger Aaron's eyes slid closed, and his hands covered his face as Theodosia's sniffles faded out the door.

"She was the only living creature who you cared so deeply for, after your parents died. The only person who ever reached your closely guarded heart."

"Why did you show me that?" Aaron asked, tears threatening to spill. Washington didn't answer- returned them to his cold, dark bedroom.

"I'll take my leave now, Mr. Burr. The next spirit will arrive shortly."

Aaron curled up in his bed, muffling the sobs into his pillow as he slipped back into sleep. 

 

When the bell struck two, Aaron was lulled from his dozing by a female's voice.  

"Wake up," someone cooed, and Burr groaned, sitting up to find a familiar face. This ghost was in the image of Hamilton's sister in law, Angelica Schuyler.

"Angelica?"

"Get up, Aaron," the spirit told him gently, "It's time for the present."

"Why should I care?" Burr sighed, the emotions from the previous journey into his past still aching, "Everyone I've ever known hates me." Angelica slapped him upside the head, knocking him awake.

"Stop wallowing. Touch my skirts, and I'll show you what's going on tomorrow- Christmastime in the greatest city in the world!"

They first appeared in the square, people celebrating as snow fell all around them.

"This is what Christmas is all about," Angelica smiled, gazing around. Burr just stuck his hands in his dressing gown pockets, shivering in the snow. 

"Right."

"Let's go see how Alexander's family is doing. I haven't seen my sister forever."

"Alexander's- _wait_!"

They shot over to a large house, much like Burr's own. Eliza and the children had gotten this house when Alexander died, but they had only been able to stay in it because Philip was old enough to work as secretary to Nathaniel Greene now.

"They look well," Aaron mumbled awkwardly. He had always had a fine relationship with his partner's wife, but it never extended beyond polite greetings. He felt a little strange being in their home, however invisible they were.

"Most of them are," Angelica said, somewhat sadly, and pointed to the door, whereupon the oldest Hamilton came in, beaming. He was tall for his age, curly hair poofing out around his freckled face. He also had a crutch for his limp, Aaron noticed. 

"Ma!"

"Philip," Eliza rushed over, all the seven other kids swarming the nineteen year old too, "How was work, sweetheart?"

"Great!" Philip exclaimed enthusiastically, setting his things down with his crutch, "I worked a little later tonight so we could afford a bigger turkey for Christmas- look!" He held up a bird about the size of his hand, and all the children cheered. Just then, the freckled boy began to cough violently, and Eliza sat him down.

"Shhh, sit down by the fire. I'll cook this up, and it'll be the best Christmas ever, darling."

"Yeah," Philip smiled weakly, coughing again, "Yeah, it sure will, ma." Eliza sighed.

"Your father would have been so proud of you."

Burr looked away.

"How can a family with so little... be so happy?" he asked. Angelica crossed her arms.

"Maybe because they're grateful for what they have?"

"What's wrong with Alexander's boy?"

"Philip's sick," Angelica said, watching the boy warm his hands by the fire inside, "He's getting worse, too."

"Is... is he going to die?" Burr asked cautiously. Angelica shrugged.

"That I don't know. The future isn't my domain." She took him away from the scene, to a room full of working class men, who looked like soldiers. They were all singing.

"What's this?"

"People enjoying Christmas," Angelica told him, "As you should be, asshole." As he watched, Aaron found himself filled with a little of the infectious joy these people brought to their singing. They all seemed so happy...

"It's time to return," Angelica said, linking her arm with Aaron's. They appeared in his bedroom again, and he blinked.

"So soon?"

"I'm a ghost of the present," Angelica smiled, "And the present lasts but a moment."

"I have to ask you something," Aaron asked, voice shaky. "Where is she?"

Angelica began to protest, but Burr stared her down. He knew they knew what he was talking about.

"She's dead, Aaron," the spirit informed him, "She died shortly after you left her, of cancer."

Aaron fell back into bed, legs unable to support him. _Gone... his Theodosia was gone?_

With that, so was Angelica, leaving Aaron alone to wait for the third and last spirit... the future.

 

When the bell struck a final three in the morning, Aaron found himself shuddering at the prospect of this spirit. He feared the future, just as much as the next man... he wondered which form this spirit would take.

"Wakey wakey, bones so achey," a southern voice said, and Burr looked up. 

"Jefferson," he mumbled, and the tall Virginian tossed back the curtains.

"Burr! Long time no see. I see you've made a name for yourself in... what... counting your money?"

Burr glared at the man (spirit) perpetually decked out in purple velvet. "Like you've done any better."

"Oh, I've got it made in the shade- I retired early," Thomas chuckled, twirling his stylish cane, "I've got a wife and kids and giant-ass mansion. But hey- this isn't about me. This... is about your future."

Burr gave a deep sigh as they disappeared in a puff of mist- he still felt the pain of the revelation about Theodosia as if he had just lost her. They promptly reappeared on the corner of a dirty street.

"I don't know a single soul who would go to that guy's funeral," one man was saying.

"Hey... that's Levi Weeks," Burr said, "Alexander and I defended him, way back when we were starting out."

"I'd go," another man, John Adams, said, "If lunch is provided." The group of men laughed and walked through them, leaving Burr to puzzle.

"Who were they talking about?"

"Hush up and watch." Next, they travelled to the Hamilton household. Burr's spirits lifted a little- at least this place brought a little more cheer. But when they walked through the wall to glimpse the family, the tone was more somber.

"No... not," Aaron began, looking at Thomas searchingly. Thomas shrugged.

"Hey- he was going to die, why should you have done anything? You just _waited for it_."

Burr gasped a little, looking back at the crutch, discarded by the fireplace stool. Alexander and Eliza's oldest son... poor young Philip.

"Merry Christmas, children," Eliza sniffled, attempting a smile by candlelight over their measly dinner, "Your father and brother are together again, as we will all be one day."

Little Angelica began to cry into her brother William's shoulder, Eliza keeping her tears in. She was alone to provide for this family now... she had no idea how she would do it, but she would. She _would_.

"My god," Aaron whispered, as they walked away from the house, "Is that really going to happen?"

"If nothing is done, yes," Thomas said, and they appeared in a dark room.

"Where are we now?" Then Aaron saw them... the tombstones, surrounding them. "Are you going to show me who those men were talking about?" Thomas just pointed over to a stone under a tree, which had a crack running down it. On the way, Aaron passed the Hamilton crypt, a freshly packed grave next to the larger one. A chill ran through the man as he kept walking, up to the hill.

He knelt down, reading along shakily.

"It s-says... _Aaron Burr_... February 6th, 1756- December 25th, 1802," he read, eyes watering. He stood up and turned around, only to come chest to chest with a leering Thomas Jefferson.

"It's time, Burr," he smirked, face darkening in the moonlight, and Burr backed up, only to feel his foot slip. He looked back to find the grave open, casket below waiting for him.

"N-no! No, I can change! I promise!"

Suddenly, Alexander appeared, walking up. "God help and forgive me... I wanted to build something that was gonna outlive me."

"What do you want, Burr?" Madison asked, appearing on the other side of Thomas.

"What do _you_ want, Burr?" Hamilton asked, prodding his chest with a finger. With every touch, he was slipping farther and farther back over the edge.

"If you stand for nothing Burr, what'll you fall for?!" Jefferson cackled, and with his cane, gave him the final push into the grave. Aaron screamed as he fell, _down down down_ , endless and terrifying...

 

...Right into his sheets.

"Wha..." he whispered, looking around. The sun was up. The snow was falling. He could hear carolers outside, oh, the sweet music floating over his ears.

He could hear. He could see. He was alive!

He shot down the stairs, barely remembering to put actual gentlemanly clothing on before leaving. He said hello to every passing person, tipping his hat and exclaiming to the sky, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Just then, he saw Angelica walking along, in a stylish pink dress, her hair done up.

"Angelica!" he yelled, rushing over and nearly slipping on some ice.

"Aaron?" she muttered apprehensively, "Shouldn't you be at work or something?" 

"No! No, because it's Christmas! You showed me all of this last night, you, you beautiful woman, you!" Angelica seemed horrified, even more so when Burr leaned in. "God, thank you! I could kiss you!"

"Burr, you disgust me," she huffed, and Aaron let out a laugh. 

"Yes! Yes, I'm disgusting! I'm _disgusting_!" he kept laughing, and Angie raised an eyebrow.

"Drank a little too much, did ya?"

"Only too much Christmas cheer," Aaron winked, and patted her hands, "Which brings me to wishing you a _merry_ Christmas, my dear."

"Uh... you too?" Angelica frowned, watching the man prance off.

Aaron practically ran to the Hamilton household, slipping twice and almost shattering his kneecap the last time. But he didn't care- he was too happy to care. He knocked on the door, smiling, and Eliza opened it.

"Mrs. Hamilton," he nodded, bowing. Eliza blinked, and began to shut the door. "Nonono, wait! Wait... forgive me, ma'am, but can I come in?" Eliza scoffed, setting her hand on her hip. She had curious kids by her side, and she did not look pleased.

"Mr. Burr. I haven't seen you since the night of my husband's death."

"It has been quite some time... but I'd like to give you something."

"I really don't think we'd like anything from you, Mr. Burr," Eliza said, closing the door again. Burr held it open.

"I'd like to cover your family's financial needs- and pay for your eldest son's medicine."

The woman's eyes widened, and she began to stutter.

"H-How... how do you... know... about..."

"A friend let me in on it," Aaron informed her softly, "Mrs. Hamilton, your late husband was a great man. He... strayed from his sacred mission in his later years, as I admit I have since my upstart. But I promise you- that's not who I want to be. Please accept my help and deepest apologies for any sorrow I may have caused your family over the years."

"M-Mr. Burr... I... I don't know what to say-"

"A merry Christmas will do," Aaron smiled, kissing her hand, "Say hi to your little prodigy Philip for me when he gets home!"

With that, he was off again, to spread Christmas happiness. He found the two charity collectors, weighing them down with all the coins he had on him- (" _Zut alors_ , monsieur, are you feeling alright?!" "Never better, good sir. Merry Christmas!" "Same to you, my man!")

And from that day on, Aaron Burr began to let people back into his life. He became the father of New York City, supporting the Hamiltons with his considerable savings, and never missing a smile with a stranger. He would visit the cemetery every morning, defying the plot on the hill by laying a single flower on Theodosia's grave and sitting down by Alexander's.

"The world is wide enough for all of us," Aaron whispered to his former partner, wherever he was, "Every day of the year."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez imagine Burr carrying Philip on his shoulder ^^ ahhh feels trip. Hope you liked this one!


	8. December 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington On Your Side ft. the Salt Squad as pissed off elves. Alexander's kissing Santa's ass, and Jelfferson is having none of it this Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s/o to yUKON CORNELIUS from Rudolph!

[JELFFERSON]

Well someone oughtta remind you...

[ALELFXANDER]

What?!

[JELFFERSON]

You're nothing without Santa behind you.

[SANTA]

_Ho ho ho!_

[JELFFERSON]

(Gasp) Daddy's calling.

 

[BRRR]

It must be nice, it must be nice, to have

Santa Clause on your side

It must be nice, it must be nice, to have

Santa Clause on your side

 

[JELFFERSON]

Ev’ry action has its equal, opposite reactions

Thanks to Hamilton, the workshop's fractured into factions

Try not to crack the candy canes, we're breaking down like fractions

We try to make nice toys, but just don't have the traction  

I get no satisfaction witnessing his Christmas passion

The way he decks the halls and dresses like St. Nick's own fashion

Bribes reindeer, all nine, Dasher is waitin' to dash in  

As Alexander feeds ‘em blind in search of gifts to cash in

This prick is askin’ for someone to jingle his bells

Someone gimme some snowballs for this corrupt ass, so we can at last go blast him

I’ll take the aim and throw, someone scoop the snow and pack it

While we were all watching, he got Santa Clause in his pocket

 

[JELFFERSON AND BRRR]

It must be nice, it must be nice, to have

Santa Clause on your side

It must be nice, it must be nice, to have

Santa Clause on your side

 

Look back at the Naughty List

 

[MADISNOW]

Which I wrote!

[JELFFERSON]

(Uh, no you didn't...)

 

[MADISNOW/BRRR]

The ink hasn’t dried

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR]

It must be nice, it must be nice... to have

Santa Clause on your side

 

[MADISNOW]

So he’s doubled the size of our Christmas tree

Wasn’t the trouble with much of the previous decorative size?

 

[BRRR]

Look what he buys!

 

[JELFFERSON]

Holiday _lies_.

 

[MADISNOW]

The gifts this year won't even be a surprise!

 

[JELFFERSON]

Helping Ms. Clause bake the gingerbreads

with the cinnamon in a small pinch...

 

[MADISNOW]

If we don't stop it, we're good as the Grinch!

 

[JELFFERSON]

He's making me _cringe_

 

[MADISNOW]

Somebody has to stand up for the holiday

 

[BRRR]

Somebody has to stand up for _all_ the days!

 

[JELFFERSON]

If we want Alex to get lumps of coal...

 

[MADISNOW AND BRRR]

His stocking we'll stuff, here in the North Pole!

 

[JELFFERSON]

 _I_ am the jolly one. I am complicit in

Watching him grabbin’ at Christmas and kissin' it

If Santa Clause isn’t gon’ listen

To disciplined dissidents, this is the difference:

This elf is out!

 

[MADISNOW/BRRR/JELFFERSON]

_Oh!_

This elf has got way too much holiday cheer

_Oh!_

This elf has been bribing St. Nick, so we fear

_Oh!_

Let’s show these gingerbread men who they’re up against!

_Oh!_

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW]

Gold and silver motherfuckin’—

 

[YUKON CORNELIUS]

(Jumps out with a pickaxe) Yukon Cornelius!

 

[JELFFERSON, looking at script]

Whaaaaaaat??

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR/ENSEMBLE OF ELVES]

_Oh!_

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR]

Let’s follow the jingle bells, see where he goes

 

[ENSEMBLE]

_Oh!_

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR]

Because every second the naughty list grows

 

[ENSEMBLE]

_Oh!_

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR]

If we follow the sleigh and we see where they go

Get in the snow, say _ho ho no_ ,

to Hamilton’s MO!

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR]

It must be nice. It must be nice

 

[MADISNOW]

Hide in the gift sack and see where it goes

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR]

It must be nice. It must be nice

 

[JELFFERSON]

St. Nicholas has no clothes >:)

 

[JELFFERSON/MADISNOW/BRRR]

No snow angels tonight, we're... off on a sleigh ride,

Still,

It must be nice, it must be nice to have

Santa Clause on your side.


	9. December 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Alexander go to John's asshole parents' annual Christmas party. Evidently, they get up to no good in the washroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING! 
> 
> Blow jobs galore, merry christmas.

“Why did you let me talk you into this?” John asked, running a hand through his mop of curls.

“They’re your parents,” Alex replied, adjusting the car mirror, “They may be massive assholes, but you can’t just say _no_ when they invite you to their dumb expensive Christmas party.”

“Alex, I feel sick.”

“John, baby, you’ll be fine. I’m here! You know what else will be there? Dumb expensive appetizers like camembert rolls and Vietnamese spring rolls and caviar and black forest cake… oh god…”

John raised an eyebrow over. “Do you need a condom?”

“You know I only married you for your parents’ spring rolls,” Alex continued, ignoring John’s comment.

“Story of my life, but Alex- seriously, I’m really scared to see my dad.”

“That’s why I brought a little something to make it better.”

John frowned. “What?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Oh, come on, Alex, don’t-“

“You’ll thank me when the time is right,” Alex retorted, shutting the matter down.

They pulled up to Henry and Eleanor’s mansion, parking their crappy, taped up green Honda amongst the many Mercedes already there.

“Are we late? They said two o clock, didn’t they?” Alex asked, checking the crumpled invitation.

“Yeah, but everybody in the family is just fucking early for everything,” John muttered, rubbing over his face. They got out, Alex wrapping four green scarves around his face. It was unusually cold this year in South Carolina, and he couldn’t survive in the cold.

“Don’t worry- if your family tries anything, I’ll give ‘em something to talk about.”

“Just… don’t burn too many bridges, Alex. I can handle myself.” John took a breath. “I can do this,” he whispered to himself as they approached the stone steps, “I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Alex repeated, taking his hand, “You can do- MERRY CHRISTMAS, MR. AND MRS. LAURENS!” The door opened to reveal the two standing there, tight smiles on their faces.

“We’re so glad you two could make it,” Henry feigned, holding out a hand to shake. Alexander enthusiastically grabbed it, shaking it up and down, and Henry hid his scowl by turning to show them in.

“Appies are out in the parlor, guests are already here, so you can mingle.”

“Oh, mingling! I love mingling, I _dream_ of mingling.”

John elbowed Alexander for his blatant sarcasm, and his mother came over to hug him.

“It’s nice to see you, John,” she said softly, hugging him, and John deflated a little hugging her back. When they pulled away, Eleanor gave Alex a small, somewhat genuine smile.

“And you, Alexander. How have you been?”

“Pretty good, Mrs. L,” Alex smiled, and she extended a hand for a shake. Alex just hugged her, and John stifled a laugh as his mother sputtered.

“Right… good… I’m going to entertain the others,” she said, walking off to join her husband.

“Babe, you’re not being very subtle,” John snickered, letting Alex lead him over to a painting in the living room.

“Look at this guy, is this your dad?” Alex laughed, looking up at the portrait.

“Uh, no… it’s my great grandfather. He had the same name as me, fought in the Revolutionary war.”

Alex squinted. “I can see the resemblance. Maybe I’d rather fuck this John Laurens.”

“Alex, stop-"

“Oh, baby,” Alex mumbled, stroking a hand across the portrait and grinding against the fireplace, “Ride me like the sexy stallion you are!”

Someone cleared their throat, and both whipped around to see Henry standing there with two snifters of brandy.

“If you would kindly refrain from defiling our family heirlooms, Mr. Hamilton, I have your drinks.”

“O-of course, sir,” Alex said, quickly righting himself and shooting a grin back at John. They decided they couldn’t hang out with the painting in the living room for the entire afternoon, so they integrated themselves into conversation in the parlour with John’s family.

“So… you’re John’s friend?” an old woman asked Alex, and Alex sighed, stuffing an olive in his mouth.

“Ms. Ball, every time I see you, you ask me that, and every time, the number of years John and I have been married increases.”

“Married?!” the woman sputtered, “Dear me, how sinful. Tut tut.” Alex shook his head, watching her hobble away to gossip with John’s aunts.

“So… business going well?” John’s uncle, the one who tried to be engaging but ultimately didn’t want to be there either, asked. John nodded, taking a long sip from his drink.

“Alexander’s got his own law firm now, he’s partners with someone as an attorney.”

“Very nice, very impressive… although, with a job that nice, I’m obligated to ask- why have you got such a horrid car?”

John sighed, and his uncle went on. “Anyway, you know, when I was a young boy, I entertained the prospect of pursuing the law…”

John tuned out, deciding instead of listening to watch his husband’s movements from across the room. It turned him on, for some reason, seeing the bouncy man he loved so much trying his hardest not to kill his homophobic, southern family. He knew how smart Alex was- if any of them dared strike up a verbal battle, Alexander would wreck them in seconds.

“…Because I always thought it would pay off both financially and with the ladies, I mean- who doesn’t love a lawyer…”

The way his slacks hugged his legs… fuck, John knew every inch of what was underneath those pants, and he couldn’t help but imagine taking Alex apart, biting his thighs, watching Alex bite his thighs, moaning as Alex marked him for his whole family to see-

“Sorry,” John murmured, “I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing a maraschino cherry off a slice of cake, John stood opposite Alex by the Christmas tree, making direct eye contact with him.

“What a terrible dude,” one of John’s cousins was sniffing to Alex, “For shame, man… I ain’t ever seen nothing like it.”

“Yes,” Alex quickly agreed, watching John tease the cherry between his lips. His pants began to feel a lot tighter than they previously were, as John licked the cherry out, biting into it so the sweet juice rolled down his chin-

“Excuse me,” he mumbled to the cousin, patting them on the shoulder, “Let’s continue this enrapturing conversation at dinner, ‘kay?” He approached John quickly, grabbing his arm.

“Our dog speaks more eloquently than that guy,” he muttered, and John shivered at Alexander’s hot breath against his ear.

“Where are we going?” the freckled man asked as Alex walked him down the wreath covered hall.

“Passing the time in a more enjoyable way,” Alex whispered, and John’s heartbeat sped up as they approached the large washroom.

“We’re fucking? In my parents’ b-bathroom?” John stuttered, biting his lip.

“We don’t have time for that,” Alex shook his head, “But we do have time for something a little more fun.”

“More fun than taking your dick? Nah,  impossible,” John deadpanned, and Alex produced something from his jacket pocket.

“Voila. Lafayette told me about this great specialty store three blocks from our apartment, and I just had to check it out. Turns out they had mint flavoured condoms.”

“Isn’t that gonna burn?” John grimaced.

“No! It’s going to _tingle_ _pleasantly_ ,” Alex corrected, grinning, “Also, it’ll be like sucking on a candy cane.”

“Fuck, Alex, babygirl-“ John whispered, “I’m already hard.”

“I know,” Alexander cooed, placing his arms on John’s shoulders and kissing him lazily, “I know, I saw you out there, talking to your family. You couldn’t stop staring at my ass… were you thinking of pounding me? Were you thinking of the sounds I make when you make me come so hard I squeal?” John shivered again, and Alex cupped his erection. “It’s okay… I’m gonna take care of that… make sure your parents hear just how much fun two guys can have.”

“Alex, no-"

“Just think of their faces,” Alex smirked wickedly, both sliding down to the cold, marble floor where John propped himself against the wall, “Imagine your dad finding us like this, you all spread out and begging for me…”

“Alexander,” John sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

“Take off your pants,” Alex whispered, and John promptly did so, shucking them down to his ankles. Alex did the rest, mouthing kisses along John’s length through his boxers, until he was whining and twitching. Then, he took him out, rolling the peppermint protection onto John. “It not only will taste like a candy cane,” Alex pointed out, “But it will also prevent a mess we really have no means of cleaning up here.”

“You’re a dork,” John breathed, guiding his husband’s head to his cock, “I fucking love you, babe…”

Alex gave his cock an experimental lick, making John groan out his name. “Babygirl…” he whispered, “Shit, take it… take it all, wanna feel your mouth around my- ahhh, like that…”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to hear us,” Alex murmured promiscuously, and John bit back a choked moan as he swirled around his slit.

“Fuck that… just get me off already, so they don’t start to wonder…”

“You taste… so good…” Alex mumbled around John, hollowing his cheeks, “I love giving you head to the tune of the Little Drummer Boy…”

“Alex, why do you do this to me?” John groaned, “Fuck…”

“Here… fuck my mouth,” Alex whispered, slinging John’s legs over his shoulder for better access. John gazed down at him with wide eyes. “Seriously, you can do it, I have no gag reflex.”

“Oh shit,” John muttered, nudging his hips up into Alex’s mouth, Alex licking furiously up and down his length as he slid his dick between his husband’s lips, “Gonna… gonna come real soon, baby, I’m-“

Alex dragged his fingertips up John’s upper thighs, coaxing a powerful orgasm out of him. John’s whole body shuddered with the impact of it, toes curling over Alex’s shoulders and back arching. When his cock began to soften a little, Alex removed his lips, placing a kiss to the tip of the minty condom and pulling it off to dispose of.

"That... was a record for fastest you've ever come." 

"Oh, fuck off." 

"I'm gonna submit that to the guiness book or world records, that was impressive." 

"Alex... they’re gonna see the rubber in the trash, man,” John moaned, tucking himself away with a long, content sigh.

“Good,” Alex smiled, holding a hand out to help him up, “I forgot their Christmas gifts at home, but I’m sure they’ll enjoy this used peppermint condom instead.”

“Who’s in the washroom?!” Ms. Ball’s shrill voice cut through their haze.

“Your sinful grandsons!” Alexander called out, and John let out a high pitched giggle.


	10. December 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and Eliza attend Philip's Christmas play... it does not go as expected.

King's Elementary had a pageant every year, around Christmastime. It was a tradition to include a holiday song, for the seniors, and to reenact the nativity scene. Now, the Hamiltons weren't particularly religious people, but Eliza and Alexander were beyond excited to see their son, now nine years old, dressed up and performing in anything at all.

"Oh, my son," Alex said, tearing up as Philip came waddling down the stairs in his lobster costume.

"I appreciate the sentiment of wanting to give everyone a part in the play, but... did the birth of Jesus really call for a lobster?" Eliza asked, though not without a smile.

"Of course!" Alex exclaimed, rushing Philip to the door, "What are your talking about, honey? For all we know, Jesus could have been born in a clam shell with a mermaid tail, we weren't there!"

"How silly of me to presume," Eliza smirked at her husband, and Philip looked up at them.

"I'm a little nervous. I've never said stuff in front of so many people before."

"You'll be amazing," Eliza assured their son, "You know your lines?"

"Well... I don't really have any, exactly... I just have this moment where I'm supposed to make a lobster noise after Jesus is born."

"What does a lobster sound like, exactly?" his mother asked. Philip then let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a car horn and a dying goat, causing his parents to wince.

"There's a reason why Theodosia got the lead," Eliza whispered to Alex.

"Well... you're going to be much better than Theodosia," Alexander told Philip, "She may be the Virgin Mary, but you'll be the best damn lobster this school has ever seen!"

"Actually, Theo and I are friends," Philip shrugged, tugging on his feelers, "I help her with her lines at rehearsal. She's nice."

"Strange. That's not a common trait in her family," Alexander gritted out, and Eliza nudged him.

"Let's get going," she said, turning to Philip, "You're going to be late for places if we don't hurry." After putting their jackets on, Alex picked Philip up, carrying his little lobster on his shoulder.

"You have no idea how proud I am of you, Philip," Alex murmured with a smile. "I know you're going to blow us all away." Even though it was just a school play and Philip was just a lobster with no lines, Eliza couldn't help but cherish the moment... the pride in Alexander's eyes was undeniable.

Once they arrived at the school, Philip was hurried off by a teacher into wings of the stage, and Eliza and Alex took their seats in the small auditorium. Alex looked around to see other parents he knew well... Aaron Burr, here to see Theodosia, Thomas Jefferson, here to see Martha Jr., Mr. Eacker, here to see the asshole that used to bully Philip (before Eliza tore the principal a new one in demanding the issue be solved with severe punishment).

"Why did you pick the seat next to Burr?" Alexander mumbled to his wife, and Eliza smiled tightly.

"Because, darling, I happen to get along with him and Theodosia. It's Christmas... you promised you would behave." Reluctantly, Alexander put on a smile as Eliza greeted the Burrs.

"Elizabeth," Aaron grinned, giving her a hug, "Good to see you! Alexander," he nodded, and Alex ground his molars.

" _Burr_."

"Did you hear that Theodosia is playing the Virgin Mary?" Aaron went on with a laugh, "She's my little pride and joy, that one. She's got quite the arsenal of talent."

"Oh yeah? Well... did you hear that Philip's playing the lobster?!"

"The lobster?" an equally grating voice came from behind Alexander, "Was Jesus born on the beach, or what?"

"Fuck off, Jefferson," Alex grumbled, and Eliza broke her conversation with Theodosia Sr. to glare at him.

"Alexander!"

"It's alright, Mrs. Hamilton," Thomas flashed a winning grin, "We're all defensively proud of our kids."

"Some kids are just better than others," Alex mumbled.

"What was that, honey bunch?" Eliza growled through a, frankly terrifying, smile.

"I just agreed with Thomas, dear," Alex smiled back, then flipped Jefferson off as soon as she had turned away.

The play began about ten minutes later, with a traditional holiday song. Martha Jr. sang All I Want for Christmas, which she nailed, even though she had sung over every other person she had been on stage with.

"She's gonna be a star one day," Thomas breathed, snapping his fingers along. Alexander just rolled his own eyes, anxious for the nativity play. When it began, he started to search for Philip... then he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

"Baby," Eliza whispered, eyes pleading for him not to open it. Alex gave her a helpless look- it could be Mr. King- and quickly pulled it out to check. As it turned out, it _was_ his boss, a single text that said: " _Call right now- extremely urgent, you are 100% fired if you do not."_

"I have to leave," Alex whispered to Eliza, and she put a hand on his wrist.

"Can't it wait?" she asked, eyebrows lifting, "They're about to start!"

"It's urgent," Alex whispered. He was conflicted... this was the worst possible moment to get a text like this, but George didn't appreciate being ignored, and Alex was up for a promotion. Cursing himself, he slipped out of the aisle, and dialled. "What is it, sir?" he hissed, standing by the doors.

"Yes, Alex... do you think my red tie or my gold tie would match better to seal this deal with those French clients? You always dress so well, I thought I would take your advice over my advisors'."

Alex balked. "You interrupted my son's Christmas play for this?!"

"Um... yes?" George muttered, and Alexander shook his head, rage boiling over. Fuck Christmas, and fuck his job- his boss was a dick, and he was on his last straw.

"Sir, allow me to tell you just what you can do with those ties-" Suddenly, Alex heard silence on stage, and turned to see Philip walk forward to do his grunt-thing. This was it... this was the moment...

But he didn't make the sound. He just stood there.

"You can do it," Alexander whispered under his breath, to which George replied, "Yes, I know that, but I'm asking your _educated opinion,_ Hamilton, lord knows Seabury has no taste."

Philip looked around the audience, like a deer caught in headlights. He didn't remember what to do... he just couldn't... so there was only one thing to do.

"My name is Philip," he gulped quietly, stepping forward and snapping his fingers timidly, "I am a lobster. I had one noise to make, that was my job, sir. I... just forgot, but this is pretty cool, so imma give it a shot!" Just then, to the surprise of both Burr and Alex, Theodosia began to beatbox for him, giving Philip a boost in confidence. "I'm here at the birth of my main man Jesus," the freckled boy grinned, a little more enthusiastically as he began to jump around the stage, "My ma's probably taping this, so to anyone who sees this, my raps are sick and my rhymes are tight, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!!" He practically screamed the last part, and the drama teacher fainted from her place in the stage pit.

" _Bravo_!" Alex yelled, ignoring his boss' shouts on the phone and shutting it off. He had never been so proud in his life. Philip came running down, skipping the bows, and Eliza picked him up in the aisle.

"That... was RIDICULOUSLY AWESOME, love!" Eliza squealed, swinging their little lobster around.

"Look at my son!" Alex shouted to everyone who would listen, hopping excitedly, "That was my son up there!"

"The call?" Eliza asked him softly with a smile, "You didn't...?"

 _Worth it,_ Alex mouthed back.

"I'll admit, it wasn't the worst way to forget your lines, little man," Jefferson smirked, offering Philip props. Even Aaron commended Philip's performance, and Theodosia gave the young Hamilton a big hug.

"Merry Christmas, Pip," she whispered, and kissed his cheek. Philip fell over, unable to get up again in his bright red paper mache costume. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I have a work Christmas party to go to tomorrow, so the update may be a little into the night, but it'll be out, come hell or high water. I've got a really good one for Monday too! x


	11. December 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griswold-esque AU. The cheery Hamilsquad decorates their house for Christmas... and their poor, unsuspecting neighbors have to endure the havoc they create in doing so. Jeffmads and minor Lams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update yesterday! (I got tipsy last night at the staff party and couldn't write coherently when I got home but shhhh...) This is for Dec. 11, and tonight's will be coming in a few hours. x

Thomas woke up to the sound of birds tweeting on the windowsill. The frost had pleasantly settled along the panes, letting the brilliant morning sunlight through to their bed. He rolled over, snuggling into James, who was still pleasantly snoring.

“G’morning,” the tall man mumbled with a sleepy smile, voice scratchy. James stirred, opening one eye.

“It’s Saturday… we should go back to sleep.”

Thomas sighed contentedly. "You’re right, sugar. No work… no holiday worries yet… just-"

“A LITTLE TO THE LEFT, JOHN! NO, NO, YOUR LEFT! THE _OTHER_ LEFT!”

Thomas’ and James’ eyes both flew open, and the birds on their windowsill flew away.

“No…” James breathed.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Thomas deadpanned, rubbing his eyes.

“THE LAST REINDEER IS MISSING A LEG!”

“IT WAS LIKE THAT WHEN WE BOUGHT IT!"

“NO, IT WASN’T!”

“It’s _time_ , Thomas,” James shuddered, looking out the window, “It’s their decorating day.”  

“Fuuuuu-"

“It looks… weird,” Alexander said, scratching his head. They looked down from the second floor window at where John was positioning their reindeer display.

“What d'you mean, weird?!” John called up, “It looks good!”

“Dasher’s not in the right place!!” Herc called down, his booming voice carrying well past their yard, “It goes _Dasher, Dancer_ , not Dancer, Dasher.”

“Oh,” John nodded, “Oh yeah.” He dragged the reindeer he had just set up to _his_ left of the other one, and looked up. Herc, Laf, and Alex all gave him thumbs up.

“Maybe we can enjoy our morning anyway,” Thomas said next door through gritted teeth, getting out of bed.

“We could play some Christmas carols,” James suggested, pulling on his husband’s bathrobe and following.

“That is an enterprising idea,” Thomas clapped his hands, and they went down the stairs. “Now… bacon.”

They enjoyed their food in a surprisingly peaceful lull, Thomas draped over James’ lap as they shared a plate of breakfast.

“Maybe they’re doing a minimalist thing this year,” James whispered, chewing a mouthful of eggs to the soft notes of Carol of the Bells.

“We can only hope,” Thomas breathed back, both on edge and waiting. Then, there was a loud crash from next door, accompanied by the sound of 'Jingle Bell Rock' blaring obnoxiously loud over speakers.

Hercules watched a giant wreath fall from where he was positioning their giant hanging decorations, frowning.

"What am I doing wrong here?!"

“Maybe we should not have so many wreathes!” Laf yelled over their music, bouncing from foot to foot to the beat. Herc stopped what he was doing, and everyone stared at Laf incredulously. He put his hands up. “You’re right, you’re right, it was a stupid suggestion.”

“Rest it on the window itself, Herc!” John yelled up.

“Babe, we open that window,” Alexander muttered.

“Well, so we don’t have to for a few days?” John shrugged. Alex considered this, looking back up at their friend.

“OKAY, YEAH, DO THAT!”

Thomas covered his ears, and James groaned.

Midday came and went, with incessant noise from next door. Alex nearly blew his hand off while firing an automatic bulb adorner at their bushes, Laf had nearly shattered their windows with a faulty hanging Santa, and Herc was just… loud.  

“YOU HAD IT LAF, JUST A LITTLE HIGHER!”

“Higher my _grand francais derriere_ , Hercules! Why did you make _me_ come up here?!” Their friend wobbled on the roof, clutching at the chimney for purchase.

“Because you’re nimble,” John called up, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“So is Alexander, zut. He is not scared of heights, he could have done this no sweat!”

“He’s too short to reach the top,” John yelled, and Alex glared, tightening his fists.

“You are so not getting it in tonight.”

“THE RED LIGHTS SHOULD ALIGN WITH THE GREEN!” Herc screamed, and John waved Laf over to the right a bit. Lafayette wobbled some more, draping the lights up over the peak of their roof, and when they stuck, Herc nodded.

“OKAY, NOW UNROLL THE LIGHT NET! ALL THE WAY TO THE DRAINPIPE!” Laf unrolled it, and Alexander grinned manically, grabbing for the sockets to plug in. 

“ _Chick a plow_ ,” he whispered with a giggle, and plugged in the net of lights that covered their house. The blinding light showered over the lawn and through their neighbor's windows, Thomas and James startled out of their seat on the couch watching Miracle on 34th. It was so bright, so brilliant, that Lafayette let out a high-pitched screech, covering his eyes and hurdling backward off the roof down into a snowbank. John’s eyes widened as Alex joined him in kneeling reverie. Herc wiped a tear, placing his beanie over his heart.

“It’s beautiful,” he swallowed. Laf mumbled something garbled from where his legs were sticking out of the snowbank beside them. Suddenly, as they admired the lights in the fading sunset, said lights all fitzed out and died… along with the rest of their street block's power.

“Fucking assholes,” Thomas muttered next door, staring at their blank screen, and James lit a candle. As evening fell, the quiet couple decided they would attempt to take their Saturday back, in the form of a stay-in date. The lack of lamps and new nice, glowing candlelight made for an incredibly romantic setting.

“You look gorgeous tonight, James,” Thomas murmured, lifting his wine glass, “Hotter than the day I met you.” He made a little growling noise, and James blinked.

“We met in grade four, Thoma-"

“Cheers!” the taller man cut in, clinking their glasses together. They leaned forward over their perfectly arranged venue and seating, and just as their lips began to touch, the sound of a chainsaw disturbed them.

“You have to cut the extra branches off, or it's never gonna fit through the door!” Herc yelled. 

“Be careful, mon ami, do not ruin the tip!”

“That's what she said,” Alex giggled. 

“Grow up,” John muttered, masking his own snicker. The chainsaw buzzed again, grooming the branches of their ridiculously oversized tree.

 “That’s it,” Thomas growled, getting up so fast his chair fell over, “I will take that Christmas tree and shove it up their asses.”

“How would that work...?” James began to ask, but Thomas dragged him up. “Wait! Wait, Thomas, hold on- let’s just go upstairs.” Thomas whipped around. 

“Are you suggesting we have sex to the sound of the Christmas Chainsaw Massacre out there?!”

“It’ll take our minds off it,” the shorter man shrugged, tugging his husband back, “Plus…” he smirked a little, “When you're in the mood, darlin’, you get louder than they could ever be.” Thomas swallowed thickly. He never was one to refuse an offer like that from James in the bedroom.

\-----

“Jemmy, _harder_ ,” Thomas moaned, digging his fingernails into his husband’s back, “Yes… _there_ , oh god!”

“Thomas… you’re so good for me, you’re beautiful, I love you...” 

“James… J-" 

Suddenly, they both screamed as a giant Christmas tree came crashing through their window. Thomas let out an anguished scream, and James started to cry. 


	12. December 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamburr. The Christmas version of that late night scene in Non-Stop.

Burr wished Alexander would stop talking. During the war, his tenacity was actually useful when dealing with congress and leading troops, but now that they had a country in the making in times of peace, Hamilton was an obnoxious, intolerable, arrogant, attractive little loud mouth.

Burr frowned at himself, erasing that last detail from his mind. He was currently busy writing his Christmas letters, and he was, remarkably, making good time with them. He had already addressed ten, one of those many to the General, (wishing him a speedy rise in health over the holidays), and another to his army superior and comrade Henry Knox, one to Hercules, who he had surprisingly still kept in touch with after the war. The lawyer and former Colonel was presently composing a letter to the piece of shit he couldn't get his mind off of...

 _It's the respectful thing to do,_ Aaron told himself, as his quill hovered over the parchment, _he'll feel slighted if you don't write him holiday wishes. Just make it short, concise, and necessarily polite._

Still, his quill hovered.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Burr hadn't realized he had been leaning that close to the candle as it flickered with a puff of breath. He rubbed his face, and set his quill down, going over to the door.

"Work hours are-" he began, but when he swung the door open, he found- "Alexander?"

"Aaron Burr, sir."

Aaron looked him up and down. The immigrant didn't have much of a coat on, only that stupid, ugly satin green thing, and he could tell Alex was cold by his red nose. Regardless, he really didn't want to invite him in... in fear of inviting him to stay.

"It's the middle of the night," Aaron stuttered out, frowning.

"Can we confer?" Alex asked, hopping from foot to foot and scrunching his fists together in his pockets.

"Is it about work?" Burr asked, crossing his arms. He was not letting Hamilton in. _No way_.

"Um... would you invite me in if I said yes?"

"Probably not."

"Okay, then. No."

"Is that supposed to change my mind?"

"Burr, it's fucking cold out here, can I just stand in your doorway with the door shut?" Aaron rolled his eyes, letting Alexander shuffle in. Then he started _talking_ \- of course he did. "What were you doing? I hope I didn't disturb anything, it looks like you were writing something important. Were you working on the Weeks case?"

"I was not," Aaron shook his head.

"But your quill is clearly-"

"I will never refuse your company in favour of scribbles on paper or a convicted murderer," Burr meant to grit out, but found that he meant it a lot more than he had thought.

"Not convicted yet," Alex pointed out with a devilish little wink and a determined glint in his eye, "Guy's got two of the best lawyers in New York on 'em."

Burr offered a small smile. "What is this matter you wanted to speak with me about at... 12:39 in the morning?"

"Oh, shit... is it really that late?"

"Uh huh."

"Glad I didn't wake you, then." Alex continued on, hilariously unphased. "It's almost Christmas, right? So I thought... I don't know, I'd come and say hi or something." Suddenly, Burr felt a pang of guilt. He was only going to send a simple impersonal holiday letter, when Alexander had taken the time to actually visit his house? Still...

"And you thought that now would be a good time to do so?" Aaron asked incredulously, "I'm in my _bathrobe_!"

"You look very good in your bathrobe," Alex shot off quickly, then covered his mouth. "Wow, that happened."

"Alex?" Aaron asked, a slight smile fighting at his lips. He hastily fought it off, and attempted a scowl.

"Don't mind me, Burr, I'm sleep deprived and anxious. Of course, that's me in my usual state, but I-"

"Stop talking," Aaron muttered, "You look dumb just standing in my doorway like that, chattering and rambling. I'm gonna get you some cider or something, to warm you up... and maybe keep your mouth busy."

"Oh, you really don't have t-"

"I insist," Aaron replied curtly, turning away and pulling his robe tighter lest it fall (he had nothing on underneath, as it so happened), "You've encroached upon my time, you might as well encroach on my alcohol."

"You're so sweet, Burr," Alex cooed, and when he was sure the other man had turned fully, pulled something from behind his back. Burr came back five minutes later, handing Alex something.

"Thanks," Alex moaned, licking the rim of the glass first, "That's nice..." Burr watched, his own tongue running over his lips as he watched Alex drink in a way that was positively unholy. He cursed himself for the revealing material of the robe he was wearing, but he had no idea this asshole would be dropping in this very night.

"Enjoying it?" Burr asked, this time truly through gritted teeth.

"'S good," Alex smiled, "Anyway, despite it being cold, it's a pretty night, right?"

Burr looked up to see out his window. "I suppose..." He frowned, opening his mouth a little more as he noticed the mistletoe hanging above him. "Where the hell did _this_ come from?" He looked back down to see Alexander smirking.

"I couldn't come not bearing gifts," Alex teased.

"For Christ's sake, what gave you the notion that I would even let you in in the first place?!" Aaron asked with an exaggerated sigh, hoping the dim candlelight hid his blush well.

"Out of the goodness of your heart, Burr, you couldn't refuse a poor, freezing soul out there."

"I-"

"And who could resist my sexy ass at their doorstep? Certainly not you, who popped a boner during my speech at the convention."

"Th-that was not what it looked like-!"

"Sure," Alex, the insufferable dick, grinned, "But you missed the best part of the thing when you slipped away to jerk off."

" _Hamilton_ ," Burr growled in warning, covering his front. This was becoming harder and harder to hide, and fast.

"Merry almost-Christmas, Burr," Hamilton smiled gleefully, then smashed his lips up against Aaron's under the mistletoe. The taller man moaned a little, reaching up to cup Alexander's cheeks and draw his cold lips in closer. They made out for a good, solid minute, and when Aaron began to pull at Hamilton's jacket, the smaller lawyer backed up, breaking the moment.

"Nah, nah. You've got lots of work to do, sir- Christmas is coming!" he called, setting down his cider and waving himself out the door. Aaron stared at the empty entranceway in astonishment, listening to the grandfather clock down the hall tick.

"And apparently, I am not," he whispered aloud, and directed a withering glare back at his damned Christmas papers.


	13. December 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha/George. "I'll be home for Christmas."

Martha stared out the window, smoothing out her skirt. She had spent the day working on intricate snowman embroidery, but was now left alone with her thoughts once she had finished. Alexander, the ginger tomcat she had found roaming the place years ago, hopped up her lap, and she began to stroke him.

She knew George was occupied with so much, and even though the war was now won, there were so many loose ends to tie up since the October battle of Yorktown. If she knew her George, as she did better than anyone else, she knew he would be the very last to abandon his duty.

She thought it unlikely he would make it home to her that snowy night, despite his last letter signing off with, " _I'll be home for Christmas, my dear._ " She wanted to believe that- but being the wife of the esteemed General Washington had taught her it was unrealistic to expect personal life would always end up coming first. She didn't mind, not really. She had no real qualm with George's political career and how demanding it was, for that was the result of his passion for leading. She loved him with all her heart, and would certainly support anything he did without complaint.

Still... she thought of their Christmas traditions. They would sit out on their porch and look out at the water, holding hands and rocking like an old couple watching the snow fall. They were still relatively young, even if George came home sometimes complaining about how Hamilton and Lafayette and Tallmadge were all so light on their feet compared to him. Martha reminded him of just how sprightly he was when he ended up supporting her on top of him in bed.

After watching the snow fall a while, they would hang a few decorations; the finishing touches on their beautiful home. Their Christmas tree was large, their stockings hung side by side over the fire, which crackled happily in the warm hearth. After that, they would fall asleep together in front of the soft blaze, usually George first to tales of Martha's ambitious endeavors contributing to the war effort from the home front. George constantly observed that he thought his wife a remarkable woman, the strongest he knew, that she never ceased to amaze him.

Martha wished she could feel her husband's strong arms wrap around her from behind, his voice that usually shouted commands on the battlefield whispering sweet, festive nothings in her ear. She had baked gingerbread, and if she did say so herself, the cookies were damn good. She thought of George limiting himself to two before bed, then ending up with at least four more and a glass of milk.

He was her Father Christmas, and she was his Mrs..

"I miss you, George," she whispered, rubbing at the fog from the window and smiling wistfully.

"No need to," a voice came from behind her, and she jumped up, letting out a scream. Alexander went running away and hiding under the Christmas tree.

"You!" she gasped, pointing her index finger in accusation, "I didn't hear you come in, I nearly had a fright!"

"It seems you did have a fright, honey," George grinned, shaking off his snow-covered jacket. She rushed forward, grabbing his hat and boots and putting them away. As she bent over to stuff them by the pegs, she felt him lean in behind her. "For the record..." he murmured, "I missed you too. More than the world, my Martha, every day I was gone."

Martha's eyes closed, and a smile graced her lips as she stood back up, turning around and wrapping herself around his middle. 

"I know it's Christmas, George.... but history has its eyes on you, isn't that what you always say? Are you certain you can take the time-?"

"You're right, Martha," the Virginian nodded, "It is Christmas, and I'll be damned if I don't spend it with my family." He placed a hand on the small of the shorter woman's back, rubbing reassuredly and putting her ease. "I have to return to the capital in a few days... but before I am to administer this new nation, I insisted on time at home to tell you the good news." Martha cupped her hands around George's face affectionately, kissing him.

"Do you have any notion at all of how proud I am of you?"

Despite his ever military stature and traditionally unbreakable stoicism,  Martha never failed to make her husband blush. He finally came out with a satisfied "Hm," hiding his smile. "Well, talk of my job aside..." His features softened a little, and he held out a hand. "May I have this dance?"

Martha realized that she had been playing music, and took his hand carefully, letting him pull her in close again.

"You may always have this dance, my love. As long as you come home to me."

The snow continued to fall around Mount Vernon as they finally fell asleep later, a half shared bottle of bourbon, three gingerbread cookies, and a curled up cat left ultimately unattended that Christmas Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to George, as it is the anniversary of his death tomorrow. Many respects to the venerated Virginian veteran.


	14. December 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas/James- It's A Wonderful Life au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied attempted suicide (movie-typical depictions) and just a little bit of period-typical homophobia.
> 
> Also, *SQUEE* A JAMES-CENTRIC STORY! Hehe.

"I wish I was never born."

James Madison spoke these six words as he stared down into the icy, white-capped river... it would be so much simpler that way. He would just let himself sink, that’s all. The cold taking over his body, letting out all the air he was keeping in his lungs... with his cough, it wouldn't take long. That way, they would get his money… they wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore, not after this great mess he’d created, and they wouldn’t have to keep up the hassle of this misery any longer.

Thomas and the children would be better off without him.

Somewhere, up in the stars, Washington’s voice boomed.

_"Hamilton?"_

_"Sir!"_

_"It’s finally time, son. Someone on Earth needs you."_

_"Oh boy! Really?! Oh, and don’t call me son."_

_"You don’t have your wings yet, I can call you whatever the hell I wish. Now, his name is James, and he’s about to jump off a bridge."_

_"Terrible, sir! Is he going to die?"_

_"Not if you show him the way."_

_"I’m on it!"_

_"Wait, Alexander... aren't you forgetting something?"_

_"Oh, my coat. It's probably snowing down there. Thank you, sir!"_

_"No! You need to know a little bit about just who you're saving."_

The angel then watched the scenes of James Madison's life play out before him in sequence.

He saw a young Madison as a child, a reserved yet quietly courageous boy- he saved his baby sister from drowning in an icy pond, catching an illness that would plague him indefinitely. Alex watched the bright boy go to college, have a breakdown over the stress of fast tracking two courses yet still graduate top of his class. He saw Madison growing into a fine young man, meeting another ambitious, handsome young man named Thomas Jefferson in their first office job. Alexander then witnessed their heated night in the back of James' car- he attempted to watch in fine detail until Washington interrupted the vision- and onto the two getting married and fixing up an old house with the help of two friends. Alex watched as a taxi driver with a ponytail, a pretty girl with long black hair, and a muscular cop decorated the big home, patching up every little hole with nails and curtains and turning it into a dream. Thomas and James were delighted by their surprise, and spent their first night in their new place kissing by the slightly faulty fireplace.

 _"Isn't that sweet?"_ Alex murmured, smiling.

 _"It sure is... but in their time, it's still frowned upon,"_ Washington informed him. Alex rolled his eyes.

 _"Oh, he's from_ that _time."_

_"Just watch, will you?"_

James continued to climb in his ambitious political career. He ran for mayor, lost to a man named John Adams, but continued to work for his party. He wrote a Bill of Rights, wrote 29 essays defending the constitution created to boost the laws and freedoms of Yorktown Falls, and with the help of Jefferson, created a public image so good for himself that when he ran again next term for mayor, he won.

 _"He looks very successful and happy,"_ Alex shrugged, _"Why does he want to jump off a bridge?"_

_"Stop talking and watch, Alexander."_

A man named George Fredrick, a British official who thought he could just waltz in and take Yorktown Falls for himself, came into town, quickly gaining followers through radical speeches. His campaign threatened to wipe James off the map by sheer wealth and power alone, but James fought hard to represent the people and the voices that George wanted to silence and rule over. Ultimately, George's own ambitions were kept at bay by Madison's political prowess, but the ostentatious man was plotting... he wanted to own everything in the town, and turn it into a grander, prettier place.

 _"He's an asshole,"_ Alex commented. Washington blinked, his patience wearing thin.

_"Yes, he is."_

In the next scene, life seemed to be taking a turn for the worst for James. George had finally found something that he could grab James with- an employee in James' office, John Jay, had lost a large amount of money that rightfully belonged to the townspeople, and George immediately seized the opportunity to claim theft and put out a warrant for the mayor's arrest. 

Disheartened, James went home to a house that was leaky, rotting, and cold. His cough was worse than it had ever been, his kids were getting sick, and Thomas was stressing over everything. It didn't take very much for the usually soft-spoken James to snap at his husband, which started a full blown fight where James slammed the door on his way out. He didn't see a light at the end of this tunnel, a way out of this. There was only one way his family would survive... cashing in on his life insurance. 

_"And that's why he's on the bridge."_

Washington sighed. _"That's why he's on the bridge, Hamilton."_

_"Well... what am I waiting for?! I've gotta go, gotta get the job done!"_

Just as James built up the courage to take a step off the side, he was surprised to see someone jump in from the other end of the bridge, flailing and screaming as he hit the choppy waters.

“Oh,” James murmured, and quickly dived in to save the mysterious man. Swimming over, he grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him to the side, getting them up out of the water- thankfully, he wasn't that big, and was easy to pull. They both chattered as James looked around for anything nearby to take shelter in, and they found a patrol station. He couldn’t help but wonder just what the patrol officer had been doing that he hadn't seen a man jump in the river, or a man _about_ to at that, but he hurried in anyway. The guy was sitting with his boots up on a desk, hat over his eyes.

“Excuse me?!” James coughed, shivering uncontrollably, “We need help, we... just jumped into the river.” The guy looked them up and down.

“And what the fuck’d you do that for?”

James pursed his lips, coughing into his drenched sleeve again. “I saved him… he jumped first.”

“The holidays,” the guy grumbled, shaking his head, “Brings out all the crazies.” He handed them a towel anyway, and closed the door.

“Thank you. What’s your name, sir?”

“Reynolds,” the guy yawned, “James Reynolds. Anyway, who the hell are you and what are you doing spending Christmas Eve out here in the cold?”

Suddenly, the mystery man spit up water, gasping for air. “Wowzer!” he exclaimed, shaking his wet hair like a dog, “What a dip!”

Reynolds raised an eyebrow, going over and sitting back down. “Wake me up if you need me.” Giving them one last once-over, he just tipped his hat back down over his face.

“Are you alright?” James asked worriedly, trying to help the man dry off.

“I should ask you the same question.”

James frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You were going to jump too.”

“I… how did you know that?” James asked apprehensively.

“Why else would a man be standing on the edge of a bridge in the middle of the night, James?”

“How do you know my name?” He was beginning to get suspicious.

“Oh, I know everything about you. How are the children? Your husband?”

“What?” James sputtered.

“I’m an angel,” he shrugged, “Alexander Hamilton, at your service.” At this, Reynolds looked out from under his hat, his eyes widening. Alex waved at him with a little wink, and the patrol man tossed his hands up.

“That’s it, I’m outta here.”

A bell tinkled as the door swung open, and the two were left alone in the small riverside station. Alex looked up with a gleeful little giggle.

"Nice work, 'Liza."

"What?"

"Oh, a fellow angel of mine. She's a very hard worker, loves helping people, I'm sure that bell was hers."

"Care to translate?!"

"Every time you hear a bell, it's because an angel just got their wings," Alexander told him, matter-of-factly.  

"I see."

“That's why I'm here; to get mine. Anyhow… I jumped in to save you.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever," James scoffed.

“You jumped in after me to save me, not to kill yourself. I therefore saved your life,” Alexander beamed.

“You don’t understand,” James sighed. He resigned himself to the fact that he was talking to a delusional man, but found that it didn’t bother him much, not anymore. “I was going to do it for the good of my family. We’re in a very tight situation right now, and… it’s all because of me. My husband and children hate me, I’m going to lose our house and job to George Fredrick, richest man in town, and the police are after me too because of money my colleague lost. I'm the mayor of this town, and I can't even serve my own family...” He started a coughing fit, almost on the verge of tears, so Alexander wrapped his arms around the man. James stiffened, giving him a strange look.

“James Madison, you have so much to live for. So much,” Alexander told him. James awkwardly peeled himself out of the man’s embrace, holding his head in his hands.

“I wish I was never born,” he repeated what he had said earlier, and Alex gasped dramatically.

“ _What_?” 

“I wish I was never born,” James said a little louder.

“How could you say that?! That's... that's..." Then, Alexander had an epiphany. "Oh, dear god… that's it!”

“What?” James muttered miserably through his fingers.

“Washington!” Alex shouted at the ceiling, “Sir, I’ve got it! I know exactly what to do!”

James’ eyes closed. “Why do these things happen to _me_?" Suddenly, he realized something. His clothes were dry. It had stopped snowing outside. He wasn’t coughing. He wasn’t _coughing_. “What’s going on?”

“You got your wish, James,” Alexander grinned, “You’ve never been born.” James stared at the man.

“My god, I wish I never saved you.”

“Wait!” Alex said, blocking him from leaving, “Like I said, I’m an angel. I can do these things.”

“Get out of my way, please,” James sighed. _He was drunk, that’s all- though he didn’t really remember going to a bar... like, ever._

“Fine, your call,” Alex shrugged, and James pushed past him out into the chilly night.

“Where is my car?” James mumbled aloud, "I left it right here."

“You don’t have one,” Alex informed him nonchalantly, popping up from behind him. James clutched at his chest, wishing the angel-probably-man would quit that.

“Of course I do, I lost my virginity to Thomas in that car.”

“Oh, I know,” Alex whispered, wiggling his eyebrows, and James pulled away with a sigh of frustration.

“Will you just… leave me alone, please?! I’ve got to find my family.”

“You don’t have a family, I told you- you haven’t been born, James! You don’t exist!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” James murmured, half to himself. He was beginning to panic.

“Wondering why you’re not coughing?” Alex smirked. James stayed silent, so the angel went on. “You never saved Nelly. Your sister died in that frozen pond because you weren’t there, and since you never jumped in the lake to save her, you never caught your sickness.”

“But…” James swallowed, his head spinning, “No, you’re tricking me, you’re… Nelly has a husband, and... and a good job, and-”

“Fine,” Alex groaned, “Let’s get out of this quiet area uptown, and you'll see what's come of Yorktown Falls. Or should I say… Kingville?”

“Kingville?!” James repeated, startled.

“Without you as mayor to resist him and fight for the people, George Fredrick, the pompous asshole, bought the whole town. You should really see it, James… it’s more of a mess than you are.”

James followed the angel into town, where he saw that the town he had grown up in was, in fact, completely different.

"Where's my campaign office?" he asked.

"Without you, it belonged to John Adams. George put it out of business, along with most of the other privately run companies around here."

"This can't be," the politician breathed, looking around. All the establishments and cafes he had come to love had been replaced by tea shops and British-owned businesses with George's egotistical likeness slapped on every billboard around. _There was the place he used to study every evening... there was the ice cream shop Thomas had taken him to the first time they went out... now, it had all been replaced._  

"This is the reality where you don't exist- you never wrote the town's Bill of Rights, you never defended the Yorktown Falls constitution, and this is the result. James, you don't exist!"

"Stop _saying_ that," James snapped, though he couldn't deny the peculiarity of the situation. "What about Mr. Mulligan and Mr. Lafayette? I'm sure they'd remember me, they're our closest friends."

Alex sighed, following James as he pressed on down the street to find the two. Evidently, they didn't have to walk very far.

"Gilbert!" James shouted, waving a taxi over, and the taxi stalled before slowly pulling over.

"Bon soir, monsieur," a tired looking man muttered, a little confused, "Where are you going?"

"I'd like to be taken home, please," James chuckled, closing the cab door before Alexander had a chance to get in, "Thank god _you_ haven't lost it, at least. Who set this one up, hm? Was it Laurens? Did Herc get the town in on it too?"

Lafayette just stared at him in the mirror, frowning. "Sure. What is your address, s'il vous plais?" James glanced up to see Alexander riding beside him in the cab, giving him a _look_. He turned back to the tall frenchman.

"Well, sir... you know my address! I've known you for twenty years, you and Adrienne and Hercules worked on my house for me and my husband when we got married, remember?!"

"My wife and I have never seen you in our lives," Laf growled, eyes narrowing, "And I don't want any trouble with a _dégénérer_."

Alex let out a low, " _Oooooh_!" and James could guess what Laf meant by that despite not being fluent in the language.

"Just... just drop me off at home," James whispered, and Laf rolled his eyes.

"I do not know _where_ your damned-!"

 Suddenly, a gunshot went off, and the three looked over.

"Let me go, I didn't do anything!"

"Got her, boys?!" a voice shouted, and James quickly got out of the car, recognizing Herc. But the officer didn't look like the happy-go-lucky Hercules Mulligan he knew... he looked harder, meaner, with a scowl seemingly ingrained on his face.

"Please!" a woman sobbed, as two officers took her, "Please, I'm innocent!"

"Dolley!" James shouted, running over to try and help his childhood friend and would-be sweetheart.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up there, my man," Hercules said, putting a hand on James' chest, "Stay back, she's dangerous."

"Like hell she is," James scoffed, "I know that woman."

"You know her?" Herc frowned, back straightening a little, "Were you in on the arson plot too, then?"

"I didn't start the fire, I just went back for the painting!" Dolley screamed, her makeup trailing down her face, "It was the only painting that didn't have _him_ in it, I had to save it!"

James looked to the painting that Dolley was holding of a tall man, then up at the building they were standing in front of, named "George Fredrick Art Gallery." _That used to be a local history museum..._ _that James had funded!_ He turned back frantically to the cop. "Hercules, don't you recognize me?!" he asked, the same panic coiling in his gut once more, "It's me, it's James Madison! The mayor!"

"I don't have time for games," Herc muttered, "I'm a busy dude. Besides, we all know that George is the mayor around here."

"More like the King," someone muttered, and Herc nodded in grave agreement.

"Seen enough, Jemmy?" Alex asked, resting his elbow on James' shoulder. James shrugged him off angrily.

"Don't call me that. I don't what the hell is going on here, but I'm going home to see my husband and children."

"You don't-"

" _Yes_ , I don't have a husband and children, I heard you the first ten times," the politician snapped, "But Thomas would never forget me." He looked down as he ran down the block to his neighborhood. "He couldn't."

Alexander looked up at the sky, shaking his head. "He's stubborn." Listening for a second, he made a face. "Even more stubborn than I am, sir!"

James ran up to his house, still disconcerted at the fact that the exertion wasn't making him gasp for breath between coughs. Trying the doorknob, he found that it was locked... so he knocked.

"Thomas!" he called, pounding on the door again, "Thomas Jefferson, put down the macaroni and open the door right this minute!"

Alexander leaned against the lamppost, biting his nails. This could make or break his attempt to gain his wings from the General.

The door swung open, to reveal a tall man with a full head of curly hair. He was busy mixing a bowl of something, a purple apron covering him.

"Damn," Alex murmured under his breath, cocking his head, "In person, he's pretty cute." He rolled his eyes toward the sky. "Okay, _okay_ , sorry!"

"Thomas," James managed a smile, out of breath, "Oh my god, you'd never believe what just happened to me. Something very strange is going on with-"

"Uhhh, hold up, sugar pie," the taller man said with a glower, "How do you know my name?" James' heart sank, his hopes crushed. He felt sick as he searched for words.

"James. Y-Y-your Jemmy," he whispered, trying to take Thomas' hand. Thomas yanked it away, frowning.

"Look... um, you seem like a nice guy, I suppose, but..."

"Thomas, don't do this to me," James pleaded, and Alex began to tear up a little watching. "Our kids! What about them?"

"Who the hell did you say you were?" Thomas asked, a little horrified at these claims by now.

"Your god damn husband!" James exclaimed, eyes desperate. Thomas backed away a little, suddenly uncomfortable. He scratched at the back of his neck, eyes downcast.

"Uhh... I don't-"

"Yes, you _do_ ," James said firmly, "And you've known since you were eleven years old, I know this because we're _married_ and we know each others' life stories, Thomas, you've got to-!"

"You'd better leave before I call the damn cops," Thomas murmured, glaring at James.

"Please, Thomas, you know me. I love-"

The door slammed in his face, and god help him, James broke down crying on his knees at the doorstep. Alex walked over, decidedly not to comfort the mortal.

"I would say I told you so," the angel mumbled, kicking the dirt, "But I have a feeling you'd punch me out if I did." He put a hand on the kneeling man's shoulder, and they were suddenly back on the bridge where it had all started. He sighed, letting James cry. "Your husband's a dick," he murmured. 

"Yeah," James muttered with a tiny laugh, "Yeah, he is." Instead of punching him out, James got up, grabbing onto Alex's shirt and lifting him up. "Hamilton, listen to me- you've got to undo all of this. I want to live again." A tear rolled down his cheek. "I want to live again."

Alex nodded with a small smile, rubbing James' shoulder, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. James looked around, frowning. _The little shit left him?!_ Just as he was about to burst into more tears, he felt the snowflakes touch his cheeks, and looked up.

"It's snowing," he whispered, reaching up. He looked behind him, and saw that his car had reappeared. Oh! He quickly walked over to it, and began to cough. _He coughed!_

"My cough is back!" he shouted to the sky with a manic laugh, "I'm coughing!"

"You alright?" he heard, and turned to see Hercules standing there with a flashlight.

"Mr. Mulligan," James grinned, going up and offering his hand to shake, "It's a pleasure to see you, sir!"

"Yeah, you too, James," Herc huffed, shaking his hand heartily, "The scumbag who works up here reported some tipsy guy calling himself an angel or something, and described you on the scene as well, so I thought I'd come out and see what was going on- you hardly ever go out at night, and you never hang around tipsy guys... unless you count Thomas on your wedding night." He winked and nudged James, who smiled. "Now, you'd better haul your ass back home- your family's worried sick about you, and, uh..." he leaned in, smile fading, "Collector's waiting for you."

"My family," James repeated, eyes welling up, "They... know who I am?"

"U-um, why wouldn't they? You feelin' alright?"

Suddenly, a tall taxi driver got out of his cab, bounding over.

"James, mon ami, where have you been?!" Lafayette shouted, "Thomas came over to my home asking where you were, and my dear Adrienne almost organized a search party for you!"

"You care that much about me?" James mumbled, holding his hands behind his back.

Laf pulled him into a tight hug. "I would have thought you'd have known that by now."

"You don't think I'm a... degenerate?" 

Laf pulled away to frown wildly. "Where would you get an idea like that?! I have supported you every step of the way, you know this!" 

"What would our town do without you, anyway?" Herc added, slapping him on the back, "You delivered on all your promises- you took this city from bankruptcy to prosperity."

"I doubt I'll be the mayor of this town for very much longer," James said, "George has me up for bank fraud."

"John Jay wasn't fit to handle all that money," Lafayette spat angrily, "He was clearly too sick to do his job, the buffoon!" James sighed.

"I'll figure something out. It's just good to be back." 

"Back?" Herc and Laf both said at the same time, looking at each other. James jumped in his car and drove as fast as he could back to his two story walk-up, flinging the door open.

"I'm home!" he called, and his kids came running down, all hugging his legs.

"Daddy, daddy!"

"Are you still mad, daddy?" their youngest son asked.

"Not in the least. Where's your Papa?" James asked softly, kissing his youngest daughter on the forehead. Just then, Thomas let out a loud screech from the top of the stairs, sliding down the banister and tackling James over into a heap.

"I could kill you right now!" he shrieked.

"I think you pronounced _kiss_ wrong," James whispered with a slight smirk, coughing into his sleeve, and Thomas growled.

"You motherfucker!"

"Don't blaspheme in front of the children now, Thomas."

"James, Jemmy, _oh_..." Thomas murmured, "God, I missed you. I thought you were going to miss Christmas! I thought you were gone, I thought you were- gah!" With that, he smashed his lips into his husband's, wrapping his arms around him as they hugged on the floor. Suddenly, the sound of a man clearing his throat interrupted their reunion. They looked over to see a small, pale brunette man standing by the staircase.

"Excuse me, Mr. Madison," the man squeaked, producing a letter, "My name is Samuel Seabury, and I've been sent by Mr. Fredrick to collect. I hate to do this on Christmas... but I have a warrant for your arrest if you do not have the sufficient funds."

Thomas looked back to James desperately, the pain in his eyes ripping James apart. He had just reunited with his husband... he wished he didn't have to go away again.

"Where's daddy going?" Mary asked, sucking at the hem of her dress.

"You can't take him!" their oldest son, Payne, shouted at the man, who looked down. James stood, brushing himself off.

"The honorable thing to do is admit when I can't do anything else," James said, squeezing Thomas' hand.

"George should be the one getting locked up," Thomas hissed, eyes red with forming tears, "He's only doing this so he can get his greedy hands on this town once you're gone. Why don't you run back to your master and tell him he can _go to hell,_ right along with you?!" he snapped at Samuel, who recoiled in fear. James held up a hand to stop Thomas. 

"It'll be okay," James said, "It'll-"

Just then, the door clanged open, and in popped Laf and Herc.

"Sorry for the intrusion- I just thought you'd enjoy some company Christmas Eve," Hercules said with a wink to James, and James and Thomas watched as the townspeople all began to flood in, producing money to throw on the table. Nelly, his _very alive_ little sister, came running in, back from her honeymoon, and gave James a big hug.

"My brother, the mayor," she smiled, "I owe you a thousand hugs plus this." She dropped a wad of cash into the pile, and James wiped his eyes, hugging the tiny lady back. Next came Dolley, who kissed his cheek.

"Oh, James," she smiled, "This is the least I could give you." She contributed as well as Burr, his campaign manager, and Theodosia his wife came with him. People kept coming, dropping money and telling him how much they appreciated everything they had done for the town. John Adams came along, elderly as he was now, to drop something off out of respect. Samuel Seabury even ripped up the warrant for his arrest, as it was obvious there was enough money to replace the missing funds. George was going to skewer him for it, but the young man found that for once in his life, he didn't care- the holiday spirit was getting to him for once. 

"What's going on, Papa?" Martha asked, tugging Thomas' sleeve.

"Your father's done a lot of pretty great things for this town," Thomas grinned, "People are coming to his rescue now, in his time of need."

"I couldn't have done any of it without you," James whispered to him fondly. 

Then, as James held Thomas' hand and watched all of this transpire with their children, a little bell on their tree rang. James nodded toward the sky.

"Congrats, Hamilton. You may have been an odd, insufferable little guy, but you sure deserve those wings."

He kissed Thomas on the cheek, and joined in the festive singing. It certainly was a wonderful Christmas... and a wonderful life.  


	15. December 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyricfic in which bisexual Eliza asks Santa to fuck up her husband lmao 
> 
> (based on the carol "A New Baby For Christmas", if you haven't heard it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wEEYn98F2zk)

I want a new baby for Christmas

One with long pretty hair

I will write and kiss her

And I know I'll never miss her

Because she will always be there

 

I don't want this old baby for Christmas

'Cause Santa you know he's not true

He said he'd stay at home late

While Angie joined me upstate

He turned my white Christmas to blue

 

Families are happy at Christmas time

Our children are jumping all around

And I don't want to watch him ruin both of our lives

So Santa don't you let me down

 

I want a new baby for Christmas

So don't you bring one that's untrue

He'll write me 'til I'm helpless

Then unbutton her red dress

And turn my white Christmas to blue

 

I want a new baby for Christmas

One who knows what I'm worth

I will hold her all night

She won't leave me to go fight

Or leave me alone on this earth

 

I don't want this old baby for Christmas

'Cause Santa you know he's not true

Alex promised he was mine

I thought the stars would align

But he turned my Christmas to blue

 

America's happy at Christmas time

Philip is home from out of town

And I don't want to cry and burn the papers he wrote

So Santa don't you let me down

 

I want a new baby for Christmas

So don't you bring me one that's untrue

He'll get his plan through congress

Publish her correspondence

And turn my white Christmas to blue


	16. December 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herc/Laf- Lafayette gets a job as a mall Santa, and has his boyfriend to take all the appropriate tucks in the costume. Herc is somewhat disconcerted by the specifications.

“Who offered you this job, again?” Herc asked, taking his boyfriend’s measurements.

“Do not talk, Hercules, you are going to do it wrong,” Laf mumbled around the six needles that stuck out of his mouth, “This suit is way too big for my delicate frame.” Herc snorted and Lafayette frowned, taking the needles he was holding from his teeth.

“What?”

“Look, no offense…” Hercules started.

“I am going to be tremendously offended by this, whatever it is.”

“…But speaking of your delicate frame… you just don’t seem like the best candidate for the job,” Herc shrugged.

“What, I cannot be French Santa Clause?! _Père Noël_ is real, Hercules!”

“Okay, fuck,” Herc held his hands up, recording the measurements. They were quiet for a few seconds, before he spoke up again. “It’s just… you don’t have the build for it, y’know?”

“You are just jealous because women will be draping themselves all over my lap,” Laf snapped. Herc frowned.

“Uhh, again, read the job description here. I doubt you’re gonna get anyone over nine, Laf.”

“Ah, but who knows? Maybe I will attract a beautiful man who is just my type, begging for a spanking, and I will bend him over my knee and tell him how naughty he’s been-“

“Put the needles back in,” Herc grumbled, and Laf reluctantly opened his mouth to do so. More silence.

“Angelica said there was an opening where she worked, I took the opportunity she so kindly extended.”

“Angelica?!”

“She hates her job, but I told her she had nothing to fear- as long as I am around the North Pole, I will make her day brighter!”

 Sustained concentrated silence.

“Wait,” Herc suddenly laughed, “Do you have to wear a beard?”

“ _Zut_ , Hercules, why is this so inconceivable for you?!” Laf moaned, pulling the needles out again, “I think I look very dashing in my costume.”

“I’m not disputing that,” Herc replied, beginning to take a tuck under Lafayette’s left arm, “I just… I don’t know, I’m imagining you in the mall, sitting there in the North Pole, and I’m just… I’m dying, man!”

“Tais-toi,” Laf growled, “Cesse d'être un connard.” 

“Yeah, well…” Herc sputtered, “Voulez-Vous couchez avec moi, c’est soir!” Laf’s face took on a dark smirk.

“Wonderful idea.”

“Just stay  _still_!”

“Then stop challenging my resemblance to Santa Clause!” Laf barked back, and the muscular man had a revelation.  

“Oh my god… you look like the Easter Bunny! Or... or Sam Jackson in Django!”

“ _Merde_ -!”

“Uncanny resemblance, holy shit!”

Laf stopped, drawing back a little. “Are you feeling alright, mon amour? You just used the word, “uncanny”.”

“Whatever. Alex is rubbing off on me.” Herc continued to tuck and sew, moving on to the other arm, then up between Laf’s nimble legs to measure the groin.

“Ooh, mon chou,” Lafayette cooed, “Do that again.” He rolled his hips forward, and Herc licked his lips with a groan.

“Why are you like this?”

“Would you have me any other way?” Laf flirted, and Herc smiled a little.

“You’re breaking my concentration, man.”

“Like the time you abandoned your friends in that café to follow me down the street and ask me out before getting maimed by a bus?”

“I couldn’t help it-- getting hit by a bus is well worth it when you see someone that looks that adorable in a blue sweater.” Laf raised an eyebrow, and Herc went on with a sigh. “And despite the discrepancies, you look just as adorable in your dumb oversized Santa costume.” Laf reached down to stroke Herc’s cheek, leaning in with a fond smile until their noses were touching.

“ _I know_.”

That afternoon, Herc went on a covert mission to pay the local mall a visit- he needed to see his boyfriend in action. He successfully found the display, and what he saw melted his heart; everything suddenly made all the sense in the world. He watched his Lafayette with a giant smile on his face, bouncing a little girl on his knee and asking her name, Christmas cheer radiating off of him. He looked so at ease and comfortable, as he always did with his effortless charm, but this was different… Herc bit his lip, and an idea struck him, sneaking through the crowds. 

“Are you actually in line?” Angelica asked, dressed head to toe in a ridiculous elf costume.

“Yeah,” Hercules grinned.

She shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Do what you want, dumbass. Just refrain from groping our Santa on the job.”

“I’ll keep it PG-13,” he smirked, “Probably.” Angelica slapped him upside the head before getting reprimanded from her manager. Hercules’ turn came, and he sauntered over to Laf, who looked genuinely surprised.

“Ah, monsieur… come and sit on _daddy’s_ knee,” Laf whispered so that no one but the startled photographer could hear.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Herc chuckled, plopping himself down on Laf’s knee and kicking his legs over the smaller man for the picture.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Laf murmured in his ear, lips ghosting over Herc’s ear and making him shiver.

“Your dick in my mouth,” he smiled for the camera, squeezing the other man’s thigh, and Laf’s eyes widened as the photo flashed. “Awww, yeah… that’s a keeper,” the tailor nodded, stifling a laugh, “That’s going right on the mantle.” Laf readjusted himself in his seat.

“I think it is time for Santa to take a hot cocoa break,” he muttered, tossing the “Santa’s Feeding His Reindeer” sign up and dragging Herc behind a plastic snowbank… It really sucked how much work went into all that stitching, when they were just going to tear it up Laf’s first day.


	17. December 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philip centric- A Christmas Story au, ft. Lams and Philodosia

By the standards of society, Philip was a good kid. He did his homework with as much enthusiasm as a nine-year-old could, he helped with chores around the house, and he was very polite around house guests... so why did people keep refusing to get him the one thing he asked for time and time again? A Daisy Model 1938 Red Ryder youth BB gun.

_You'll shoot your eye out!_

God, if Philip had a nickel for every time he had heard that. He would know how to handle the thing... probably. It didn't look dangerous... how dangerous could it really be? It's a toy!

"Dad?" he asked, tugging on John's sleeve one day. John looked down from where he was cutting apples for Philip's lunch the next day.

"Yeah, little man?"

"It's almost Christmas..."

"What gave that away?" John smirked, looking around pointedly at all the decorations up.

"Dad..." Philip looked down, kicking at the tiled kitchen floor, "Well... you know that... thing I've been-?"

"What did Pops say?"

"Huh?"

"I said, what did Pops say?"

Philip swallowed. "Well, he hasn't exactly changed his mind from a solid no... but you're my other dad, you can-!"

"If Pops says no, it means no. Nice try, though!" Just then, Alexander walked into the room, phone smushed into his ear with his shoulder.

"No, it's not that big of a deal sir, they're blowing it out of proportion. Yeah, that's what they _do_ , just to make it seem more relevant than it is!" He covered the receiver. "I'm on a conference call, but I've got a few secs- how was school, Philip?"

"Fine," Philip grumbled, crossing his arms. He really wanted that BB gun. Alex looked to John.

"What's this all about?"

John gave him a look. "It's about that gun thingie again." Alex rolled his eyes.

"Philip, I'm not letting you play with something like that! Nice try though, appealing to the _lenient_ parent," he said, kissing John on the cheek. Suddenly, a voice crackled on the phone, and Alexander listened in again. "You give me hard, solid proof of those stats, Jefferson, and I will give you a medal! No, _you're_ delusional if you think..." he left the room in a fume, leaving Philip to go and sulk in his room. He climbed up on the radiator, looking out at the snow falling over the wintery white neighbourhood. An elaborate, recurring fantasy began to play out in his mind.

" _I'll see you on the duelling ground_!" an older, much cooler version of himself shouted, jaw clenched. The kid who bullied him on the way to school, George Eacker, stood opposite him on the desert turf, also older. A tumbleweed blew between them. 

" _Let's go, then_ ," George gritted out, eyes narrowed and calculating. Philip smirked, turning around to grab his BB gun and fiddling with the trigger. They turned toward each other, and Philip stared the spiteful boy right in the eye, summoning all the courage he could muster. He looked like a badass- tall gun slinging boots and a hat that fell over his eyes mysteriously... all the ladies watching the duel take place swooned as Philip flashed a grin at them. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

" _Philip, my lovely sweet lovey honey pie_!" Theodosia rushed toward him, in a big pretty dress that Philip liked imagining her in. She always looked nice in purple at school, so she must look pretty in a purple dress like this one.

" _Theo_ ," Philip told her, " _It's too dangerous for you to be here! But don't worry... I'll protect you_." In reality, it was Theodosia who usually ended up protecting Philip from George... but this was a fantasy, okay?

" _Oh, you don't stand a chance_!" she sobbed. Philip held up the BB gun, the silver metal glinting in the fading sun. Theodosia gasped dramatically. " _Is that a Daisy Model 1938 Red Ryder BB gun_?!!"

" _It sure is_ ," Philip smiled wickedly, raising his pistol to aim and recite a good, cheesy one liner: " _Time to blow this kid away_." They began to count their way to ten...

Just as Philip and George took closer aim and Theodosia clutched at Philip's left arm, the doorbell rang downstairs, leaving Philip in duel position on his bed protecting an imaginary girl behind his back. He blew a lock of curly hair out of his face, and sighed.

That night, since his aunties had all come to visit for the holidays, Philip decided to implement a new strategy: play up the adorable little sweetheart that nobody could say no to.

"Philip, you're growing!" Angelica remarked, beaming down at him. Eliza opened her arms, immediately plopping down and squeezing him in a hug.

"You're so handsome!" Peggy grinned, ruffling his hair.

"Takes after his fathers," Eliza giggled, and hugged her best friends. "Good to see you guys."

"Eliza! Girl, get over here," John laughed, bringing her in close and handing her a drink, "'Gelica, Pegs! It's good you're staying the night, 'cause y'all are getting shitfaced tonight, amiright?!"

"Would we expect any less from the Laurens-Hamilton household?" Angelica smiled, and everyone got settled in. After dinner, the lobbying began.

"Hey," Philip nodded, coming over to sit by Aunt Angie. She raised an eyebrow.

"Hey is for horses," Philip rolled his eyes.

"That's what Uncle Herc says."

"Yeah, well, Uncle Herc stole it from me," Angie muttered, "Excited for Christmas?"

"Yeah! It's just... there's something I want, and... uh..." He looked around conspiratorially.

"And it's off-limits," Angelica nodded knowingly, "I see where this is heading."

"See," Philip said, biting his lip, "It's this really cool Red Ryder BB-"

"Uh uh," Angie shook her head, "If your dads aren't getting it for you, there's probably a good reason." Philip should have known Angelica would be the hardest to break- he moved on to Eliza.

"Philip," she grinned, "You never told me what you wanted for Christmas! Soon it'll be too late, and Santa'll already have picked something." The boy smiled back... this was the perfect opportunity.

"I want a Red Ryder BB gun."

Eliza's eyes widened. "You could shoot your eye out!" Philip deflated. "That sounds very dangerous, Philip, really."

"Dangerous?" Peggy asked, leaning in, "Hey, I'll buy it for you, Pips!"

"Yeah, that's a big no," Alex cut in, "That thing is a hazard. Philip's already accident prone, just like this dad, and after John's toy incident when he was eleven, I don't really want our son reenacting that."

"Come on," Angelica held out a hand to Philip, "Let's go make some Ovaltine, and everything will turn out for the best, sound good?"   

So, two weeks away from Christmas, Philip was right back where he began- even the mall Santa he asked gave him the same stupid line! He thought of asking Uncle Burr, but he was pretty strict, so that was a no-go. Then he thought of Uncle Herc and Uncle Laf, but Alexander knew those two would fall prey to anything Philip said- he wasn't about to let them choose a gift for his son. Life went on, for the time being... Philip's friend got his tongue stuck to an icy pole, and he got an A on his paper about the American Revolution. He even stood up to George on his way home the day before Christmas Eve.

Then, a miracle happened.

Philip overheard a conversation in the living room- at first, they spent twenty minutes debating over whether or not they're going to keep the god-awful leg lamp that they received by mail, (" _It's modern art, Johnny, baby!" "It's fucking weird, Alex_.") Then, the topic of conversation shifted to Philip's one Christmas wish.

"He wants it real bad," John murmured.

"I know... I just want him to be safe, y'know?" Alexander sighed, rubbing his face, "If anything happened to him, I don't know what I'd do."

"At the end of the day, it is just a toy," John shrugged. Alex glanced up at his husband.

"Are you seriously on his side here?"

"I don't know! You know how he gets, with his big brown eyes and little look he gives when he really wants something. He's been so good lately, too! Don't you think...?"

"You're a pushover," Alexander huffed a laugh.

"I'm also the nice dad," John stuck his tongue out, "Gotta uphold my reputation."

"I'd call you the _naughty_ dad, babe," Alex chuckled, laying John down into the couch, and that's when Philip stopped listening to gag.

And, just as he had crossed his fingers wishing for, Christmas morning came, and with it a brand new, beautiful, glorious Red Ryder BB Gun.

"Sick!" Philip screamed in joy, jumping up and inspecting it. Alex and John smiled at him.

"We decided that you're old enough to be trusted with it," Alex nodded.

"And it's a pretty cool toy, too," John added.

"Gonna have to agree."

"Thanks, pops! Thanks, dad!!" Philip beamed, and hugged them. He couldn't wait to take it out in the backyard to test it, which he did minutes later. Taking up the same position he had in all of his fantasies, he imagined George Eacker standing opposite him, aiming back.

"Slowly and clearly," Philip whispered, keeping one eye open and putting the little aiming device right up to it. _Eacker's going down, Theodosia will be mine!_ He began to count excitedly, directing the centre of the shot at the tree by the fence.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven-_

Suddenly, on seven, he accidentally pulled the trigger, the sudden kick of the plastic bullet firing sending Philip to the ground. Staring up at the clouds in a daze, the boy felt a growing ache behind his right eye, a bruise already forming.

There may have been an I told you so from Alexander. There may have been some intense worrying from his entire family, and there may have been many questions about why Philip was wearing an eye patch the first day back to school... but he didn't regret it at all. Getting to live out that one shot on Christmas day was better than a hundred dumb glasses of Ovaltine.

....No matter how well Aunt Angelica makes said Ovaltine. 


	18. December 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas/Lafayette- staff Christmas party shenanigans and twisted holiday lyrics. 
> 
> SMUT WARNING- Anal fingering/sex, dirty talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for not updating yesterday- I had a crapton of work to get done and I was exhausted af, but anyway, here's this! :) 6 days til Christmas!

It was all Lafayette's fault Thomas got a boner in his boss's house- the idiot couldn't keep his mind out of the gutter, even listening to a song as innocent as Santa Clause Is Coming To Town.

Okay, rewind.

Thomas was just sitting pretty, listening to the nice, classic carols at the annual office party that Washington held with Martha. Thomas wasn't the most social man, especially compared to his boyfriend, so he had been sitting by the fireplace, eggnog in hand, listening to Hamilton and Laurens try to debate the glaringly fictional politics of the North Pole with Burr (spoiler- Burr decidedly had no opinion). Madison came over to ask Thomas what he had read lately over the holidays, and that had been something of a good conversation- James was Thomas' best friend, always one to lighten his mood with the subject of literature.

But, as always, the party went on, and Thomas felt like crawling into bed and sleeping as opposed to drinking and having fun. He just wasn't in the mood that night, unusually.

"Mon cher!" he heard from behind him, and turned to see his flamboyant better half prancing around the Christmas tree, obviously well on his way to getting wasted. "Come and join us, loosen up, love!"

"I'm pretty loose," Thomas commented, "If I lost any more elasticity, I'd be a fuckin' noodle." Hercules fell over himself laughing at the tall man's sarcastic reply, knocking over a velvet armchair in the process. Washington turned from where he was chatting with Angelica to gaze down at his late mother's good chair, sigh in resignation, then turn back.

"You are a riot, mon chou," Laf grinned, circling Thomas and wrapping his scarf around his boyfriend's neck playfully, "Are you always this funny?"

"I wouldn't know, honey bun," Thomas deadpanned, and Laf nuzzled into his neck.

"Mmm, I love your beard," he murmured in Thomas' ear, "Père Noel should take his cues from your facial hair." Lafayette never did have any regard for public decency, so when his hand snaked down Thomas' front, the Virginian quickly corrected the pathway, safely resting his long fingers on his thigh instead.

"How many did you have?" Thomas asked quietly, but he should know better; Laf was like this even sans alcohol.

"Two, maybe five?" Laf chuckled, and Thomas marvelled at the frenchman before him- he could hold his liquor better than anyone he knew. "Why... are you thinking you will get lucky, hm?"

"I'm bettin' on it," Thomas replied, a slight smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. He really didn't want his dick to take notice of where this was heading, but it seemed inevitable now.

"It has been six days, mon cher," Lafayette whispered in his ear, making Thomas bite back a groan, "And you are driving me crazy in that suit."

"I thought you hated this suit," Thomas murmured, watching Laf's big brown eyes drop down to his chest hungrily.

"It is problematic," Laf admitted thoughtfully, "Which is why I am eager to rip it off of you." Thomas sucked in a breath, grabbing a paper plate off the table and strategically placing it over the barely-there bulge forming in his purple pants. He knew this game... Laf felt the need to play it whenever they spent an evening out, the horny fucker. He also knew that this would end with Thomas on his knees, either begging to be fucked or begging to take more of Laf's cock down his throat in some closet somewhere. Thomas scowled. He really didn't want to get cum on this suit, since despite his boyfriend's objections, it was his favourite colour, and dammit, he treated himself.

"I could fuck you right here," Laf whispered, giving a sharp bite to Thomas' earlobe, "Is that what you would like? Hm? Daddy's pretty slut, on display...?"

"Shit," Thomas groaned, resisting the urge to shut Laf up and suck those beautifully full lips into his mouth until they were even more swollen-

"Ah, I love this song! It is, how you say, my _jam_!" Laf called, hopping from foot to foot to the song Jingle Bell Rock. Thomas whined at the loss of Laf's carefully hand movements, as Alexander began dabbing along, because of course he fucking did. Madison filmed the whole thing from the sofa in case he needed leverage against the unpredictable man in the future. Soon, Laf returned with renewed interest in Thomas' body.

"Mmm, this song is lovely as well," he murmured, smoothing a hand down Thomas' shoulder, "Santa Clause is _coming_ to town..."

"Don't do it."

"How would you like my Santa..."

"Don't say it."

"To come in _your_ town?!" Laf cackled, slapping his knee, and Thomas rubbed his temples, looking around.

"Do my festive flirtations irritate you?" Laf smirked, pawing at Thomas, "Make you frustrated?"

"Makes me want to blow my load in my pants, is what it does," Thomas huffed, covering a following laugh with his hand.

"Do not come yet, naughty boy..." Laf grinned, "That's my job to make you lose yourself." Laf had been right... it had been far too long since they had last fucked, or at least found a little relief in each other. Thomas remembered it- he was sitting, enjoying a pleasant afternoon in the library of his place, when Lafayette came sauntering down the stairs, stark naked, whistling. That ended with three long fingers in Thomas' ass, loud begging, and complaints from their kitchen staff. (Laf just tripled their Christmas bonuses, which put the whole matter to bed.)

"Yo! Hello?! Anybody in there?!" he heard suddenly, and Thomas blinked out of the memory to find Laurens, Hamilton's obnoxious freckled boyfriend and unfortunately one of Laf's best friends, waving in his face.

"What is it?"

"Yo, Jeffs, we're about to do Flaming Rudolph shots in the parlour, dude!" Thomas quirked an eyebrow, hearing Washington protest in the next room: _"For the love of the good lord, not Martha's vase!"_

Laurens bounded off, stumbling into a wall and then into Alexander, sending them both off into giggling fits. Ah, the staff Christmas party. _The staff Christmas party._

"I believe this is our cue, Thomas," Laf said softly, tugging at Thomas' buttons insistently. The Virginian quickly obliged, letting himself get pulled to the nearest walk-in closet.

"This is so dirty," Thomas gasped, "In Washington's closet, like _fuck_... that's my boss, we're in his fucking _closet_."

"He is my boss too, and I can tell you that given the chance, I assure you, George is a very kinky man."

"What the f-"

"Come on, you cannot tell me he and Mrs. Washington do not get up to it in here sometimes."

Thomas pulled a face, looking around the dark little space and imagining a naked Washington trying to cram himself and his wife in between hangers. "This just became seven times less appealing," he mumbled. Lafayette shushed him, tracing his lips in the dark.

"We have to make this quick, my dearest... as quick as Santa delivers his presents."

"One more Christmas euphemism, I swear-"

"You, Monsieur Jefferson, are on the naughty list this year."

"I mean, is that even a surprise?"

"Which means if you can't be a good boy..." Laf cooed, stroking Thomas' stomach under his shirt, "I will just have to teach you a lesson." Thomas' cock twitched, his erection straining to be freed under the restrictive material. Pulling down his pants and unbuttoning his shirt, the cold air reached Thomas' nipples, making him shiver and arousing him even more. Then, through the murky dim light from under the door, Thomas saw Laf produce a toy of some sort from his pocket, the smell of mint overwhelming them.

"You were carrying a candy cane in your pocket this entire night, and you didn't think to offer it to me?!" Thomas hissed, "You ain't gon' get none now, you son of a bitch!"

"Shhh, it is not what you think it is," Laf smiled. Suddenly, a whirring noise filled the closet, and Thomas swallowed. _Oh._

"You're crazy," he said, and Laf popped the cap of what he guessed was peppermint lube.

"I am brilliant," Lafayette corrected, and began to massage Thomas open. Thomas spread his legs for easier access to his clenching hole, and Laf took the opportunity to lift him up against the wall, humming Christmas Carols as he fitted the gently whirring ring around Thomas' thick, swollen cock.

"Deeper?" Thomas asked, and Laf nodded, steadily coaxing his slick fingers in deeper until they grazed Thomas' prostate. The Virginian's dick immediately jerked against his stomach, bobbing between them.

"Are you faithful?" Lafayette whispered in his ear. Thomas was disconcerted- he had no idea where this was coming from. Sure, he was close with Madison, but...

"Uhh... shit, sugar, 'course I'm-"

"Because you'll be coming like you are!" With that, he began to hum Come All Ye Faithful, and Thomas resisted the urge to smack a hand to his own forehead. Lafayette suddenly surged full force forward, which he did more often than not simply because he lacks self-control just as much as Thomas does, and began to jack Thomas off in time with his fingers.

"Want more," Thomas panted, "Sweetie pie, want your cock in my ass yesterday..."

"I do not possess a time machine," Laf breathed, sucking a hickey into Thomas' neck, "But I will definitely put my cock in your ass right now, if it is what you wish." They locked lips desperately as Laf attempted to slick himself up blindly, aligning them so that he could easily slide in and bury himself in the Virginian's tight heat.

"I love you, mon amour," Laf chanted, eyes squeezing shut and brows drawing together at the pleasure. Thomas could feel the coiling pressure building.

"D-ditto, darlin'..." Thomas gasped, thrusting into Laf's palm. He was so close... Laf let out a loud moan, and Thomas looked at the closet door supporting them... if someone was to open this, they would topple backward right out onto the carpet for everyone to see... and knowing Laf, he would just keep going, letting his friends cheer him on.

"Oh, shit," Thomas said, covering his mouth, "Just remembered something..."

"What is it?" Laf growled, his voice husky with determination. Beads of sweat already began to roll down his forehead.

"We're in the coat closet... we could be found any second," Thomas groaned.

Laf moaned in response, his exhibitionist side kicking in as he imagined all his coworkers witnessing them getting busy. Thomas would be lying if he said he didn't find that a little hot as well.

"Gonna come, sugar, gonna-" Thomas breathed,

"Do you want me to squeeze your _jingle balls_ when you do?" Laf asked innocently, but Thomas was too far gone to care about the jokes anymore.

"Yes, I want you to deck my halls! Deck them _so good_ , yeah... right there... like that, harder..." Laf let out a gleeful little giggle of delight, thrusting harder, and soon, Laf had to remove Thomas' cock ring to let him come. They both climaxed one after the other, as quietly as they could.

"That was _absolument_ _fantastique_ ," Laf sighed, taking his hair tie out and tying his skewed hair up again.

"It was pretty damn sweet, baby," Thomas laughed, the sound barely coming out in his hoarse voice.

"Let us return to the party," Laf nodded, righting himself before helping Thomas clean up and get back into his clothes, "We do not want to be rude."

"Ruder than fucking in our boss' closet?" Thomas mumbled, but the music drowned him out as they filtered back in. "So what'd we miss?" the Virginian grinned, Laf hooking a hand through Thomas' arm, and Hamilton Jr., the tomcat, flew by their faces. They turned to see Alexander and Hercules playing with him, and their boss quickly came to rescue the poor animal.

"Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?" a very weary Washington asked, scratching the tabby's ears as his wife also came to chat.

"Oui, oui... this holy night was not so silent after all," the frenchman replied to them both with a wink, "I would not use the black turtleneck you keep in the hall closet for a few days."

Thomas balked, and Washington spit his ale all over the Christmas tree.

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" Alexander shouted at the top of his lungs with a hiccup, and Martha fainted into Lafayette's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's usual update will be out in the next hour or so.


	19. December 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamburr. Aaron Burr's strongly worded letter to a man he doesn't (shouldn't) believe in... but with Hamilton driving him up the walls, he's willing to hedge his bets.

 Aaron Burr sat down at his desk, clenching his jaw and rolling his quill around between his fingers. This was the last straw... Hamilton had shot himself in the foot with this one, and Burr wasn't as quick to forgive this time as he put the ink to parchment. 

\-----

Dear St. Nick,

I have but one humble request this year. I know you must be extremely busy this time of year, since you're Santa Clause, and I am a 42 year old renowned colonel who is writing to you. Jesus fucking Christ.

Despite how busy you are, you jolly, wondrous man you, I'm desperate, and I thought you might help. This year for Christmas, I want Alexander Hamilton to learn a lesson.

That arrogant, obnoxious, bastard, orphan, whore's son has gotten on my last nerve. Do you know how long he spoke at the Constitutional Convention? SIX FUCKING HOURS, SIR. And then he had the nerve, the sheer audacity to approach me and lecture me afterward about me dozing off. Not everyone likes the sound of your voice as much as you do, Alexander!

Now, I realize how this must sound. Despite what you may think, I am not concerning myself with a ridiculously petty predicament, and I am most certainly _not_ a bitter person... ask anyone, I smile all the time!  

Don't ask Jefferson or Madison, anyone else.

Anyway, I couldn't help it if I closed my eyes for a short while during his ludicrous speech- his words just began to blur together, you see. Everywhere I turned, Hamilton's words cornered me, laughing in my face, burrowing in my ears, louder than jingle bells from your god damn sleigh!

Again, not bitter- just a little touched.

God help me, if I hear the chipper words _"Aaron Burr, sir!"_ uttered one more time out of that pretty mouth, I am going to shoot him, point blank. There, I said it. Put me on the naughty list, Mr. Clause, I just admitted to a murder I haven't even committed yet. You know how I know I'm gonna commit it?

Because he never shuts up.

I have no clue in hell how Washington even puts up with that man, or even how I do every day. Christmas, sir, is a time to be with those you cherish. I cherish one thing in this world, above all else: GOLDEN SILENCE. Alexander Hamilton is the opposite of golden silence, the _complete, dead, fucking god forsaken_ opposite! I never get a moment's peace at home either, even when I'm not working! And the worst part of all this, Mr. Clause?!

He forgot our ten year anniversary.

Please do something about this particularly vexing grievance. Thank you, sir.

_-Your Ob't Servant,_

_A. Burr_


	20. December 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Christmas au- ft. Marliza, minor Lams, minor Jeffmads, and Peggy/Lafayette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is based on a Christmas horror movie, so it will feature many character deaths. If you do not like disturbing themes or creepy shit, please, PLEASE skip this chapter lol. I had to include this au though, I freaking love the original Black Christmas (if you haven't seen it, go add it to your holiday traditions immediately). Extra warning for explicit language, etc., all that spoopy crap. If you're staying, enjoy!
> 
> ((Ayy spot the extra founding father cameo in this one!))

Eliza Schuyler rushed to the front door of the sorority house, a grin on her face as she waited for someone to open for her. The heavy wooden door opened, and the middle Schuyler sister hurried in with her carton of coffees and cocoas.

"Was the campus busy?" Angelica asked, taking the tray.

"This close to Christmas?" Eliza replied, shucking off her powder blue scarf, "'Course!" Maria leaned in, kissing her girlfriend and leaving a lipstick stain on her. Eliza giggled, wiping it off.

The rest of the sorority girls came from the living room and down the stairs to grab their drinks, along with the boys they had invited. Theodosia, Dolley and Abigail took their black coffees, while Martha, Peggy and her boyfriend Lafayette took their white hot chocolates. Herc took two, dumping a little whiskey in both, and handed one to John as they both bottomed up.

Outside, somebody lurked by the trees, watching the party through the curtains. They watched what was happening, saw everyone laughing and having a good time. Sneaking around to the side of the giant residence, they found an ivy wall leading all the way up to the top window... the attic.

"You know, we ought to throw you all out," Peggy smirked, leaning out of Laf's groping hands, "Boys aren't technically allowed after ten PM, y'know."

"It's almost Christmas, and most of us are leaving tomorrow for the holidays," Alex protested, sliding himself onto John's lap on the couch, "You girls aren't gonna throw us out in the cold just yet, are you?" He made his best pouty face, something everyone always fell for- even the professors.

"Now, how could we do a thing like that?" Maria pouted back, tugging on Alex's sweater collar before sauntering back over to her girlfriend.

"Don't worry... we'll behave ourselves," James reassured, swallowing as Dolley and Martha began to drape themselves over him and Thomas. The short lit major let out a little gasp as Thomas smacked his ass.

"Ever tried a foursome, Jemmy?" Thomas grinned.

"Um, n-"

"Live a little! Why limit yourself to dick, when you can have dick and pussy at the same time?"

Angelica cleared her throat, giving the tall theatre major a stern look. "If we're taking this past midnight, we'd better hope the house mother doesn't come home tonight... at least not until we _do_ kick most of you out."

"Mrs. Washington already said she'd left for Virginia to visit family," Eliza reminded, replacing the record on the turntable with something a little brighter.

Just then, the phone rang, and Eliza headed over to pick it up.

"Hello?" There was a period of silence, and she looked around. "Hello?"

Everyone began to gather around, and Eliza began to hear faint noises coming through, further confusing the situation. "Hello?!" she repeated one more time.

" _Billy..._ "

"Billy?" Eliza repeated, and covered the receiver as she leaned back. "Does anyone know a Billy?!" The consensus answer was no, so Eliza put the phone back to her ear, smiling. "I'm sorry, I think you've got-"

" _Agnes... pretty Agnes... what your mother and I must know is...!"_

"I'm... sorry?"

" _Billy! Billy! Agnes!"_

"Who is this?" By now, everyone had gathered around the phone, listening in. The man on the other line began to moan.

" _Mmm... mmm, let me lick it... I want to lick it, yeah..."_

"Who the fuck-?" Herc began, but was cut off when the man kept going.

" _I'm gonna do it... I'm gonna- Billy! Billy, no!- Yeah, lemme lick it, yeah…_ ”

"This guy's fucked up," John commented.

“Why are you doing this?” Eliza asked, face twisting.

_“I’m gonna stick my tongue up your pretty pussy!”_

Alex surged forward, grabbing the phone from Eliza in preparation for a rant.

"Listen, you creepy asshole- this is a sorority house you're calling! Now, if you want a good time, I'll give you the private number of the Jefferson residence, he'd probably cum in ten seconds listening to this!"

"Whaaaat?!" Thomas began to babble, but James restrained him. The voice on the other line didn't relent.

_“You want to lick me out?”_

“You kinky motherfucker, I’ve got a boyfriend!” Alex grinned, eliciting a few hearty chuckles.

_"You want to suck my big cock, pretty boy?"_

"I'm sure I've sucked better, thanks," Alex bit back, not skipping a beat, "Now leave us the fuck alone, or you'll have a giant, six foot tall fashion major to deal with!"

"'S right!" Herc called, cracking his knuckles.

"You got that, buddy?" Alex asked, and listened to the static silence. After ten seconds of nothing, they all heard one sentence uttered unnervingly calmly and quietly.

"I'm going to kill you." The line went dead, leaving the eerie notes of Silent Night floating over them from the other room.

"Who does shit like this on Christmas?" Laurens finally asked, shaking his head.

"Dickheads," Thomas muttered.

"Like you?" Alexander countered, and Peggy cut in.

"What if they call back?"

"Then I will fuck them up royally, Miss Peggy!" Alexander shot back, "And so will Laf, Herc, and my ever-loving boyfriend! I'm sure Angelica will too, and I know I'd hate to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

"Alexander, please," Burr cut in, sighing, "It's not smart to provoke a guy like this." Theo nodded beside him, clutching his arm anxiously.

"Burr, did you hear him? I'm not going to let that happen in a house full of girls! He could..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. 

Maria got chills. "Who do you think it was, even?"

"Who knows?" Angelica whispered, "They better not call again, or I'll give them a piece of _my_ mind."

The adversely cheerful notes of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" came on, and Abigail shook her head.

"I'm sure it was nothing more than some guy from another frat, drunk and having a little fun."

“Maybe it was James Reynolds,” Peggy suggested nervously. Maria bit her lip, hoping it wasn’t her ex-boyfriend. He was an abusive asshole, who she was glad to be recently rid of.

"It was probably Charles Lee!" Madison suggested, and John rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, the fucker's probably trying to compensate for his lack of a sex life by doing this- jerking off over a crank call to a bunch of hot chicks." The laughter returned, and after everyone had loosened up a little and passed the strange call off as a prank, the festivities quickly resumed. Peggy took Laf’s arm, offering a small smile.

“I should start packing.”  Lafayette nodded, following her up the stairs to the last bedroom down the hall.

"Ahh, how I wish you did not have to go and visit your father so soon, ma princesse..." Laf murmured, planting a kiss at the back of her neck.

"I know," Peggy teased, folding a blouse for her suitcase, "I'll be meeting him tomorrow by the university.”

“I will help you pack.”

“No, it’s fine- go have fun with the guys,” she grinned, shoving him playfully. Laf raised an eyebrow.

“Oui, ma cœur?”

“Yeah!” She looked back, biting her lip. “You sure you’re okay tonight if we don’t…?”

“I’m sure I will live, cherie,” Laf chuckled, and placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “After all, you are back on New Year’s Eve, when we will have plenty of time for that. Get your rest. I will make certain you are not disturbed by the insufferable ruffians downstairs.”

"You're one of those insufferable ruffians," Peggy giggled.

"Touché," Laf smiled gleefully, and ducked out with a loud, jolly laugh. As Lafayette left the room, a yellow cardigan in Peggy's closet parted, an eye watching her pack through the dim lamplight.

Downstairs, everyone was getting even more cozy. Thomas was taking turns enthusiastically making out with both Martha and James while palming himself through his pants, and Maria and Eliza were practically going all the way on the carpet by the fire. John was sitting by the coffee table, trying to seem nonchalant, but Alexander was nowhere to be seen, which meant the white pom-pom of the Santa hat bobbing beneath the table surely belonged to him. Angelica shook her head, taking a sip of peppermint liqueur.

"This sorority has turned into a goddamn brothel," she shook her head. 

"Tell me about it," Abigail snorted, stealing the bottle.

Upstairs, Peggy heard the sound of the house mother’s cat.

“Ham?” she called out, “Hammie Jr, where you at?” She looked around- that tomcat was a little shit, always hiding in her room. Why couldn’t it just go hide in Eliza’s room? She loved cats and dogs, and… well, Eliza loved everything.

“Hamilton?!” Peggy called out, searching for the cat. She heard the noise from her closet, and sighed, resting her hands on her hips. “Now how’d you get in there?” She shook her head, walking over. “Good thing Laf and I didn’t get busy, we would have had quite the audience!” She peeked through her clothes, frowning. “Ham?” She waited; silence. “Hammie?”

Her following scream was muffled by a plastic dry cleaning cover slotting over her head, pulled tight. The youngest Schuyler sister thrashed, grabbing at her face, but the bag only sucked into her mouth further, cutting off her air.

“Did you hear something upstairs?” Herc asked, settling back into an armchair after a refill and looking up the dark passageway of the staircase.

“Peggy’s up there, getting ready for bed,” Laf told him, “Lower your voice, mon ami, zut!”

“Fuck, sorry,” Herc muttered.

“He’s incapable of lowering his voice,” Laurens laughed from the table, then clutched at the chair, gasping out a “ _Happy Hanukah_!” Alexander popped up, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve. With the group preoccupied downstairs, nobody noticed Peggy's limp body being dragged up the ladder to the attic, being propped up in the rocking chair by the window.

_Baby's so pretty..._

The next day, most of the sorority sisters had left- the only ones left were the Schuylers and Hamilton with his friends… James and Thomas had taken off on a beach vacation courtesy of Thomas’ rich mother. While the group prepared for their annual house Santa party, Philip Schuyler checked his watch by the university, making sure it was on the same time as the public clock’s.

Peggy was an hour late.

“Excuse me?” he asked a passing boy, “Do you know Margaret Schuyler?”

“Nah, but I know Angelica Schuyler,” the guy grinned, winking, and Philip stuttered, looking for someone else to ask.

“Excuse me!” he called, “Will someone help me?” Burr just happened to be walking by on his way to drop off his books before he headed home to the city for the holidays, and stopped.

“What do you need, sir?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m a little bit worried. You see, my daughter hasn’t shown up to meet me, I-I was supposed to pick her up to take her to the family cabin for the holidays.”

“Who’s your daughter?”

“Margaret Schuyler.” Burr raised his eyebrows.

“Peggy! Uh, I just saw her last night.” Philip stared at him apprehensively, and Burr put a hand up. “N-Not like that… she’s got a very lovely boyfriend, sir, who would beat me straight into the ground if he ever thought I was taking her out. Now… she went to bed early last night, and wasn’t in her room when we checked this morning, so we figured she had already come here.”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Philip replied, eyebrows knit in concern. Burr sighed, looking down at his books. Dragging them home for the holidays wouldn’t be so bad.

“Here... I’ll drive you to the sorority, sir.”

When they got back, the only four home were Maria, Herc, Alex, and John, decorating. As the door sounded with the bell, Maria quickly shooed the three boys upstairs in fear they would get in trouble.

“Who is it?” she called pleasantly, continuing to cut decorative snowflakes.

“Aaron,” came a voice, “Can you lemme in a sec, Ria?” Maria came to the door, swinging it open.

“Theodosia’s gone, she-“ Maria noticed Philip, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mr. Schuyler! Pleasure seeing you again.”

“Yes… well,” the man muttered standoffishly, “I’m here about my daughter.”

“Oh, she’s in _good hands_ , Mr. Schuyler, don’t you worry a second about that,” the promiscuous psychology major giggled.  

“My _youngest_ ,” Philip gritted out. Burr raised an eyebrow at Maria behind his back, and she waved him off- she didn’t need to explain the animosity between her girlfriend’s father and her.

“She left to meet you,” Maria frowned, pulling up her red turtleneck to cover the painfully obvious hickeys from Eliza.

“She did not show up,” Philip said, looking around the house, “I’d like to see her room, please.”

Burr shrugged at Maria, and waved a quick goodbye before ducking back out. The girl took the older man upstairs, hoping they wouldn’t run into any of the four guys hiding.

“Peg’s room is right over here!” Maria called, making sure she was loud enough to warn the boys. She heard some scrambling before she entered the room, and opened the door.

At the other side of the hall, Hercules hid behind a door, listening to the faint voices of Maria and Philip. Just as suddenly as he had heard the door close, he heard thumping up above him, and the meow of a cat.

“Hamilton Jr.?” he mumbled, looking up, “How’d ya get up there in the attic?” All this thumping was going to direct some attention over here, so Herc felt he should go get the pesky tomcat before he did any damage. Climbing out of his hiding place, the bulky man looked up at the tiny attic door on the ceiling, starting up on the vertical ladder.

“Ham, you little prick,” he muttered, opening the door and sticking his head up to look around, “Come on down, now. How the hell’d you get up here?!” He considered this. “Oh. It was probably a very drunk John last night that stuck you up here… poor kitty. Sorry, I feel bad now.” He squinted to see through the piles of old, useless stuff, and craned his neck. "Seriously though, Ham, man, I don't have all day, little bud." Then he saw a figure in a broken rocking chair at the other end by the window.

“Who's there?” he asked, startled. Then he began to focus through the darkness, and stumbled back on the ladder as he saw Peggy’s wide eyes, the plastic bag over her head sucked into her mouth.

“Holy sh-shit…” he whispered, covering his mouth, “That’s f-fucked up....” He heard a creak behind him, and stopped, turning slowly until he was facing the other direction. He didn’t have time to shout for help before a suspended meat hook came swinging right at his face.

“Here it is, Mr. Schuyler.” Philip walked around Peggy’s room, picking up an empty wine glass.

“Did she drink quite a lot last night?”

“Oh no,” Maria shook her head in earnest, “No, she’s a good girl, sir, honest. Purest of the lot.”

“Anybody is purer than you, Miss Lewis,” Philip shot back, and picked up a framed picture of Lafayette.

“That’s Laf… _ayette_ , Lafayette, he’s a french exchange student. They’re a cute couple, Mr. Schuyler, they never misbehave,” Maria lied. Mr. Schuyler turned around, lips pressed together tightly.

“I didn’t send my daughters off to college to pick up boys and party. I trust you’ll see to it that Peggy does not get up to anything…” he looked around the room, “Unholy.”

“If we even find her,” someone said from under the bed, and there was some shushing. Maria rolled her eyes, and Philip looked under to see Alex, John, and Laf all smiling nervously up at him.

“Bonjour, monsieur!” Laf extended, “Joyeuz noel, non?”

Later, they all went to the police, who were ineffectual in the matter, despite there just being reports of a murder in the park not an hour before they arrived.  

“You’re not going to do anything about it?” Angelica demanded, and the meek cop shuddered.

“W-we can’t do anything about it if we aren’t sure of a real threat,” Sergeant Seabury replied.

“That’s bullshit,” Alexander barked, “She could be in trouble!”

“It’s probably just her boyfriend, prank calling her.”

“I am her boyfriend, you incompetent tart,” Laf deadpanned, and John suppressed a laugh.

“Wait…” Alex remembered, “The sorority house has been getting calls. They’re weird, obscene… maybe you can do something about that?”

“I…”

“Seabury!” someone called, “God damnit, let me handle this!”

In came a round-looking man with spectacles, a bald spot and long hair on his head.

“I’m Chief Franklin,” he explained, “It doesn’t take a _genius_ to predict relation between these two reports. I’ll help you, son- just give Seabury the address of the sorority, and I’ll have someone put a track on your phone.” 

“It’s, uh, 10 Valley Forge Lane,” Alex said, then he and John shared a look. “Area code FELLATIO.”

Seabury looked up at this.

“Fellatio?”

“Yeah,” John chimed in, “It’s a new area code- FE.” Samuel shrugged.

“Okay.” John, Alex, and Laf stifled laughter, and Angelica crossed her arms.

The same time the next day, after they had brought someone in to put a trace on their phone line, Eliza returned home on Christmas Eve to the sorority house. She was just in time to pick up a call.

“Hello there?”

“ _Pretty Agnes."_  

Eliza sighed. “You again? Why don’t you just stop calling here, you-“

Suddenly, the man on the other end began to giggle, and clap, and Eliza heard the creaking of a rocking chair, the hair on her arm standing up.

“ _Little baby Bunting, daddy’s gone a’hunting, gone to fetch a rabbit’s skin, to wrap his baby in…_ ”

“Stop calling here!” Eliza shouted, and slammed the phone down. She looked around, wishing someone else was home. The phone rang again.

“I said-!“

“Is Maria there?”

Eliza frowned. “Who is this?”

“James Reynolds.”

“Oh,” Eliza huffed, “Why are _you_ calling?”

“’Cause I wanna talk to Maria, are you deaf?”

Eliza’s jaw clenched. Her girlfriend’s ex was a piece of work.

“She’s not here, _don't_ call again.”

“She’d better answer me.”

“Or what, asshole?” Eliza retorted, “She’s not yours to torment anymore!”

Right after she hung up, she immediately received a call from Chief Franklin.

“Eliza?”

“Yes?” she replied.

“What did you mean by… she’s not yours to torment?”

“You were listening to that?!”

“It’s very important that you answer me, Eliza.” The middle Schuyler sister sighed into her sleeve, willing to admit anything if it meant a step closer to finding her sister.

“That was Maria Lewis’ ex-boyfriend. She’s my girlfriend now, but James just won’t give her up.”

“Do you think he’s responsible for the calls?”

Eliza thought about this. “It doesn’t seem like something he would do… he would sooner come over here and threaten us in person.”

“Sounds like a winner,” Franklin muttered, and nodded over the phone. “He's abusive, then?"

"He was... we won't let him within ten feet of her now, though, no one will. Maria doesn't like to talk about it."

Franklin sighed. "Alright. Remember- you have to keep the caller on the line for at least a minute, or it won’t be enough time to trace the source of the call.”

“I understand,” Eliza sighed, “It just... upsets me.”

“Unmistakably. But we have to find your sister.”

That night, Laf, Alex, and John sat around with the Schuyler sisters and Maria.

“I’m so worried,” Laf muttered, “Oh, mon dieu, _mon dieu_ , it is all my fault!”

“How is it your fault?” Eliza asked incredulously.

“I was not watching her.”

“She said she needed to sleep. You left her alone,” Angelica consoled him, “You didn’t force yourself on her, like some intoxicated men would do,” she gave a pointed look at Maria, who looked down, remembering the many times James had done that to her.

“What if I never see her again?” The Frenchman began to cry, and Alex wrapped his arms around his friend.

“She probably just skipped town, Laffy, like Herc did.”

“Herc left?” Maria asked suddenly.

“He disappeared yesterday, out of nowhere,” John shrugged, “He had told us the night before that he was gonna head North to visit his brother for Christmas, so I guess that's where he went."

“A little weird for him to leave during all this mayhem,” Alex murmured, “But such is Hercules Mulligan. Dude is unpredictable.”

“Maybe Peg's just being rebellious,” John suggested.

"That's not like her," Angelica shook her head adamantly, "She's always the goody two shoes of our family."

“What if ma petite fleur is dead?” Lafayette suddenly asked, and Philip Schuyler looked out the window, rubbing his temples as Eliza broke down in Maria’s lap. John shook his head.

“Man, don’t think like that. She’s fine, she’s a fighter.”

“We need to find her,” Angelica said firmly. Just then, the phone rang. Alexander shot up, grabbing it.

“Now who the _fuck_ is this?!”

“James fucking Reynolds, dipshit.”

“Oh, joy to the world,” Alex muttered, “It’s dumpster fire on line two.”

“Let me talk to him,” Maria sighed, and Eliza grabbed her arm.

“Don't. He'll get under your skin.” Alex hung up the phone, and not ten minutes later, James Reynolds showed up their door.

“Don’t answer it,” Angelica whispered.

“I’m going to get rid of him,” Maria growled, and slammed open the door. They proceeded to have a shouting match, one that ended with James yelling, “You'll always come back to me, you selfish whore!” before storming off, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. Despite slight shakes, Maria returned to the living room confidently.

“I d-doubt he’ll bother me again after that.”

Eliza immediately hugged her, and let her girlfriend cry into her shoulder. Alex sighed, standing up. “This whole holiday is a mess.”

Suddenly, the phone rang again, everyone turning to it in fear… Angelica answered.

“If this is you, Reynolds, I swear to St. Nick I’ll break both your arms and feed them to you.”

“ _What did you do with the baby, Billy_?”

“Huh?” Angelica asked.

“ _Billy! Billy! Where’s the baby_?!”

“Who the shit is Billy?”

“That’s him, that’s the moaner,” Eliza hushed, rushing over, “Keep him on the line, Angie, don’t hang up.”

“ _The baby’s alright, mommy… she’s alright with me_ …” Creaking noises came through the phone, and soft giggling.

“Why do you keep calling this house?” Angelica demanded.

“ _Don’t worry, mommy… she’s safe here with me… the baby’s safe with me_ …” Eliza beckoned for the phone, and answered.

“What baby are you talking about?”

“ _Shhh, don’t tell them what we did, Agnes… don’t tell mommy what we did…_ ”

“Who is Agnes?!” Eliza asked insistently.

“ _Pretty yellow dress… baby is so pretty, shhh, she’s sleeping…_ ”

“Pretty yellow dress?” John repeated slowly, and Philip Schuyler fainted in his chair. Eliza’s heart began to race as she held the phone out to Maria, who had come to listen.

“Leave us alone!” Maria shouted into the receiver, and the man on the phone's giggling and groaning stopped.

“You'll always come back to me, you selfish whore.”

The phone line went dead, and Maria stumbled back, dropping the phone.

“He…"

_That was what James said._

_Was James the moaner?_

_That couldn't have been a coincidence..._

“We all need some sleep,” Angelica conceded, “Especially you, Maria. Let’s all just think this through in the morning.”

“What about Peggy?” Laf whispered, “Mon ami, we can’t… cannot…”

“Get some sleep, Laf,” Eliza sighed, “The police likely traced that call. We can’t do anything else tonight except hope for the best.” John and Alex came over to Lafayette, clutching his shoulders.

“She’s probably in shock… both sisters are. We need to give them some space while they try to process this… Peggy’s been missing for two days now.”

“Mon dieu, she’s…” Laf cried, and John patted his back.

“It’s late. Come on.”

“You three can sleep here,” Angelica offered, “Fuck propriety, we’re all in this together now. If we get another call, I’d feel better with three guys in the house, at least… and I don’t think our dad will be much help unconscious like that.”

Alexander stood, and John placed a hand over Angelica’s. “Angie, we’re gonna head over to the police station. I want to make damn sure they’ve got men on this. We'll leave Laf here for you, but we’d better take your dad too… get him some help.”

“Yeah… thank you,” the oldest sister whimpered, and her strong façade broke as she let John and Alex hold her up.

They eventually all headed up to the third floor, and got into bed. Eliza couldn’t bring herself to heed her own suggestion, so she sat downstairs by the Christmas tree, biting her nails by the extension line.

Upstairs, after about an hour or so, Laf tossed and turned until he couldn’t bear the feel of the comforter on his skin. Moonlight trickled in through the frosty windows, the dim glow of multicolored Christmas lights shining in along the carpet. He couldn’t just sleep soundly when his sweet Peggy could be desperate for help… for his help. He crept out of his room, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes, and entered her room, searching for some clue as to where she was.

He heard a creak, and turned.

The window had been left open… it wasn’t open last time they were in here with Mr. Schuyler. Who had been in Peggy’s room since then?

“Qui est-ce? Who is there?” Lafayette hissed, looking around. He could take anyone who came at him… he was on the university swim team, and could surely fight off anyone smaller than him. “Hello? Come out!” He took another step on a noisy floorboard, wincing. “What did you do with Peggy?”

Another creak, the scratch of something dragging, and Lafayette felt something wrap around his neck from behind.

“Help-!” he began to scream, but a teddy bear was stuffed in his mouth. “Hmmph! _Hmffmm_!”

“Shhhh,” a voice whispered, “Don’t tell them what we did, naughty Billy.” All too late, Laf realized the string around his neck choking him was, in fact, live Christmas lights, and a vase of flowers was knocked over behind him, lighting the whole string up in a blinding surge of electricity.

Oblivious to the body currently being dragged by her door, Maria was also left tossing in her sleep, plagued by nightmares. It hadn’t been the easiest last few days. She had imagined her first Christmas with Eliza would be made up of cuddling, hot chocolate, and exchanging cute, homemade gifts. Instead, it had become a terrible police chase. Throw James in the mix, and it was a horror story.

She opened one eye, and saw a shadow enter her room, approaching. He came closer to reveal a wide eye staring at her through the sliver of light, and Maria opened her mouth to scream at the top of her lungs.

“Maria,” Eliza muttered, rushing up the stairs. She burst into her girlfriend’s room, going over to the bed where the young woman was heaving.

“I… I had a nightmare, ‘Liza… there was a man in here, and he… he was crazy, he wanted to…”

“Shhh, there’s no one here,” Eliza assured gently, stroking Maria’s hair out of her face. “Baby, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” Maria moaned, and fell forward into Eliza’s blue pyjamas.

“It’s okay,” Eliza whispered, “You’re fine, you're just thinking too hard on what James said. Now listen, I’m here. Laf’s right next to you in the guest room, and Angelica’s in her room across the hall. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Angelica approached the doorway, yawning.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Eliza assured, “Bad dream.” Angelica nodded.

“I’ll be here if you need me.”

Eliza turned back to Maria. “I love you. Okay? You’ll be okay.” Maria nodded, wiping her eyes, and leaned forward to kiss Eliza. After a few moments, they pulled away, and Eliza placed another kiss on Maria’s forehead before getting up.

“Go back to sleep.”

“’Kay,” Maria breathed, snuggling under her covers, “Love you.”

“Ditto, darling. See you in the morning for Christmas.”

Eliza returned downstairs, wishing all of this would end already. Did the police trace the call or not? She decided to put a record on, the soothing choral voices of Hark! The Herald Angels Sing calming her somewhat. Upstairs, wind whistled down the hallway from the open window in Peggy’s room, chilling the air. Maria pulled her blankets tighter.

“Sweet Agnes,” she heard, ever so quietly, “Why’d you have to tell mommy?” Her eyes flew open, noticing the glint of a sharpened candy cane coming down. Her helpless calls for someone were masked by the carols playing downstairs.

Angelica trailed downstairs, her robe dragging along the hardwood. Wreaths were hung up all over the place, but the very sight of them along with the twigs of holly they had put up made her sick to look at now.

“Can’t sleep either?” Eliza asked, not turning around. Angelica grunted a reply, coming to sit beside her sister.

“I can’t imagine what I’d do if she really was dead.”

“Don’t say that,” Eliza whispered, “Please. That’s our little sister.”

“Yeah, and we haven’t seen her for three days,” Angelica snapped, “This isn’t like her. She's always excited to see dad!”

“When are John and Alex going to come back?” Eliza sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.

“They’re getting this sorted out at the station,” Angelica reminded her, “I know Alexander won’t rest until these calls are sorted out, and John is right there along with him.”

 “Yeah,” Eliza murmured, wiping her eyes, “I’m just really worried about Maria. Poor darling’s traumatized, probably by James’ visit. He really does make her feel worthless, Angie.”

“He comes back here again, I’ll be true to my word and push him out the highest window- from the attic!”

“The attic,” Eliza mumbled, “Did we check the attic?”

“For what?”  

“In case… in case she left something in there, and went up, and… she could be trapped!”

“Tell you what- I’ll check on my way up. But first, I’ll make sure Maria’s sleeping soundly, so you can at least try to rest easy.” Eliza managed a smile.

 “Thanks.”

“Goodnight, love. Stay by the phone.”

“Yeah.”

Angelica went up the stairs, looking into Maria’s room. The door was to a crack, so she pushed it open slowly.

“’Ria? You okay, honey?” She opened it a little more… and the door swiftly slammed shut behind her.

Forty-five minutes later, Eliza’s knee began to bounce. Nobody was calling, nobody was coming home… it was unnerving, the true meaning of Silent Night really beginning to sink in.

The phone rang.

Eliza grabbed it. “Chief Franklin?”

_“LOOK WHAT YOU DID, BILLY!”_

Eliza had to hold the phone away from her ear at the anguished screaming.

 _“WHERE’S THE BABY, BILLY?! Right here mommy, baby’s alright- BILLY! FILTHY BILLY, YOU’VE BEEN BAD! Please, mommy, Agnes is alright… I KNOW WHAT YOU DID, BILLY!”_ Eliza squeezed her eyes shut. Had it been a minute yet? This had to be long enough… she couldn’t bear any more of this, on top of everything.

“Please,” she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks, “Please, stop.”

“ _It’s okay, Agnes… everyone is happy now_.”

The line went static, then dead, leaving Eliza to cry into her hands; she couldn’t deal with this alone, not anymore.

“Angie!” she called upstairs. “Angie, come here! I got another one!”

Franklin got a call in his squad car, from where he was patrolling the neighbourhood. Alexander sat beside him, there to help with any information he could provide on the case.

“Yeah?”

“Chief, it’s me...”

“What the hell've you got Seabury?” Franklin sighed, pushing up his spectacles.

“The trace came back, sir… the calls are coming from 10 Valley Forge Lane.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, son. That’s the address of the sorority!”

“It’s also where the calls have been coming from,” Samuel insisted.

Alexander looked at Franklin, and the Chief’s face changed.

“Now listen to me, Seabury… you call that god damn house, and you tell those girls calmly and politely to get the fuck out of there before they’re slaughtered. Don’t tell them why- just get them out unharmed. Do _not_ fuck this up!”

“Y-Yessir.”

“We have to go, fast,” Alex whispered, and Franklin nodded, pulling away from the curb.

Back at the house, the phone rang again, and Eliza nearly collapsed.

“H-Hello?” she sniffled.

“Miss Schuyler? This is Sergeant Seabury.”

“Yes, hello,” she relaxed a little bit, anxious to hear the result of the trace, if it was that at all.  

“Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully, Miss Schuyler. I want you to get your coat, and I want you to leave your house as promptly as possible.”

“Why?” Eliza frowned.

“Just…” Samuel sighed through his nose, “Please do it?”

“Okay,” Eliza nodded, “I’ll just get Maria, Laf, and Angelica-"

“N-No!! D- _Don’t_ do that, Eliza!”

Eliza held the phone a little tighter. “Why not?”

“Eliza….” Samuel sighed again, “The calls are coming from inside the house, alright? You have to leave. Eliza?” Eliza dropped the phone, letting the sergeant’s voice crackle through the small speaker as she backed away. “ _Eliza?! Do not go after your friends! It will only lead to chaos and bloodshed!”_ She looked up the stairs, fear paralyzing her. What was up there?

Seabury hung up the phone at the station in frustration. “What happened?” John asked anxiously, bounding over to the front desk. Samuel put his hands up.

“I tried, Mr. Laurens.” John angrily backed the lanky man into the wall, tightening a fist.

“What do you mean, you _tried_?!”

Meanwhile, as Franklin’s squad car raced through the neighbourhood, Eliza began to ascend the steps, knees weak.

“Maria?” she called timidly, “Baby? A-Angelica? _Lafayette_? Are you awake?” She looked in Laf’s room, to find it empty. Swallowing, she dared to check Angelica’s across the hall.

“Hello?” she mumbled. Her sister’s bed was empty; one more to check. “M-Maria?” she choked, “Love, answer me… w-we have to leave...” She made her way down the hall, and finally came to Maria’s bedroom, the wreath filled with mini vodka bottles on display on her door.

“Hello?” she breathed, and pushed the door open. “Oh… no… no, no, no, no-"

There, on the bed, Maria and Angelica sat, side by side, propped up against the headboard holding hands. From the ceiling, Lafayette was strung up by sparking Christmas lights, legs knocking against the bed on every swing. Eliza let out a blood-curdling scream, slamming back into the wall.

“We’re a family again, Agnes,” the raspy voice murmured beside her, and Eliza looked up through the crack of the door to find a wild-looking eye staring down at her. She pushed the door back, smashing the man, and ran down the stairs. She heard wailing, and soon screaming, as he chased her. She ran all the way down to the basement, and slammed the door. After a few seconds, the killer was banging on it manically. Eliza looked around, and grabbed a nearby fireplace poker.

“Drive faster,” Alex muttered from the back of the squad car.

“I’m head of the police, son, I can’t drive faster!” Franklin insisted.

“Yes you can, god dammit, they’re going to _die_!”

Franklin pursed his lips, fixing Hamilton with a tired look, and floored it down the quiet, snowy street.

Eliza looked around for a hiding place, and the banging stopped. She waited with baited breath as silence enveloped her… then she heard the knocking right beside her at the window.

“Who... who’s down there?!”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. It sounded like James Reynolds, and he sounded very drunk. _So it_ was _James! That sick bastard!!_

She ran up the stairs again, trying to make it before James could get back in- he must have ran out to surround her after chasing her down. As she approached the front door, she found it unlocked, and James entered, a confused look on his face. Eliza, not throwing away her shot, swung the poker, smacking him down. Wobbling a little, she then fell backward against the first stair, hitting her head.

\-------

“She’ll be alright,” Franklin announced, examining Eliza's eyes, “She’ll be out for a while, but all she needs is some rest.”

“I can’t believe it…” Alexander whispered, a haunted look in his eyes, “I knew Reynolds was a little unstable, but… oh my god…”

“We never know someone until we truly know someone, if you know what I mean," Franklin muttered, "I'm sure Miss Lewis was withholding some information from us, and-"

"She had every right, James Reynolds is an abuser, a jerk, a... a _murderer_ , now!"

"-and I don't blame her," Franklin continued, giving Hamilton that weary look again, "He's behind bars now. Keeps claiming he didn't do anything, but he's got no alibi that checks out- he was hanging around the house, drinking."

"What was his alibi, anyway?" Alexander mumbled into his hands.

"Says he's been waiting by the big oak tree for Maria to come running back to him all night. He said he gave her a chance, and she was 'being a bitch about it'. I then informed him that she was dead, and he put on a big show, tears and everything."

"Crazy fuck," Alex muttered.

"You got that right," Franklin shook his head, "I listened in on one of the calls... only something a man that drunk could come up with. Anyway, let's give Eliza some space to rest."

"Yeah," Alex whispered, squeezing a sleeping Eliza's hand before getting up. John hugged him outside the door.

"I don't know how we're going to tell Mrs. Washington and her husband about all this," John said.

"Who's that?" Franklin asked.

"The house mother of this sorority," John looked down, "She's a real sweet lady. She'll be inconsolable."

"Imagine what Thomas and James will come back to!" Alex added, "I've said it once, I'll say it again- I'm glad they weren't here for Christmas." John nodded.

"Look around. We're just lucky to be alive right now."

He and Alex both held each other up as the cops led them down the stairs, past the room with the bloody mattress, and out of the house. One cop stood guard by the door.

Upstairs in the attic, the rocking chair rocked back and forth, back and forth above Eliza, the humming of Silent Night floating down through the open attic door. Hercules still swung from the hook, likely never to be found for years, and Peggy, despite her greying skin, still rocked, holding a teddy bear in her lap.

"Pretty Agnes," the voice giggled, "Don't tell them what we did."

Then the phone rang.


	21. December 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeffmads modern au- James watches Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer with Thomas for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta fluff it up after that last chapter, hey?

Thomas stood, stock still, gawking at his husband.

"What do you mean, you've 'never seen Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'?"

"I've... never seen Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer," James reiterated, raising an inquisitive eyebrow up at the taller man, "Problem?" Thomas' face twisted into his signature 'what the fucking shit' look.

"Uhhh, yes James, there are a great _many_ problems with that statement!" he barked, beginning to pace their living room, "Never seen Rudolph, my, my, my... now, I'm afraid this just won't do."

"Oh, it won't do?" James sighed, and Thomas held up a finger.

"First, answer me this... _tell me_ you've seen Frosty The motherfucking Snowman."

"Oh, yes. I watched that film when I was twelve, back in Virginia."

"Oh, thank _god_. There's still hope for salvation," Thomas replied dramatically, and James barely contained his eye roll.

"I suppose you have to remedy the situation, then?" James asked, placing his hands on his lap.

"Oh ho ho, do I," Thomas flashed a grin, "We are spending the rest of this Christmas evening watching my man Rudolph on the silver screen."

"I figured as much," James muttered.

"Shit, don't look so excited," Thomas laughed.

"It's nothing personal, Thomas..." James looked perplexed, "It's just that... a movie about a deer doesn't seem all too amazing. I mean, look at Bambi!"

"Don't you dare touch Bambi, that was my childhood, Jemmy."

"Why are we married?"

"Opposites attract, go on."

"Okay, poor example. Regardless, I just never thought it would be very interesting."

"Well, I'm going to prove you wrong," Thomas retorted, sticking his tongue out, "Reindeer-hater."

"You can be so fucking childish, Thomas."

"I don't know if I want to talk to you anymore, after that obnoxious little Bambi confession of yours."

James frowned. "I think I was being perfectly polite about it-"

"I can't hear you," Thomas hummed, sticking his nose up stubbornly.

"Thomas, god dammit," James growled, "Just put the movie on." Thomas turned back around, a grin plastered on his face as he began to crawl over his husband as a predator would prey.

"Mmm, I love provoking your rough side. It makes for the dirtiest sex when I push your buttons..."

James blushed as Thomas bit at his earlobe. "Alright, calm your genitals and press play, already."

"Prepare to have your mind blown," Thomas said excitedly, taking a sip out of James' eggnog glass. Honestly, it was fun to watch... Thomas got excited over a great many things, and it was adorable watching his passionate endorsements of those things.

So, James watched. He started out simply indulging Thomas... then, as the storyline progressed, he began to speak to the screen, tugging on Thomas' pink housecoat every now and then in protest.

"Unwarranted and illogical discrimination!" James snapped at the TV, pointing insistently as if Donner and Fireball could see his disapproval, "I know all too well what that's like." Thomas looked over at this sadly, and snaked an arm around his Jemmy's waist, planting a wet kiss on his husband's cheek... it always hurt him to hear about James' struggles when he was in college, and how his size put him at a social and political disadvantage. He had overcome that, though... now he was wildly successful and had a drop dead gorgeous spouse, if Thomas did say so himself. James swatted his over-affectionate husband away, sitting forward to watch closer.

"But _why_ did he leave Christmas town, Thomas?"

"For the good of the _people_ , Jemmy, he did it for the people."

"Fuck the people, Rudolph is morally superior to every single elf in the Northern Hemisphere!"

"I know, James. I know." Thomas snickered into his fist. "I think you should repeat the mantra, 'fuck the people' next meeting we're in, see what Washington says."

"Screw you."

Ten minutes later.

"Thomas!"

"Yes?"

"He's not dead, is he? Yukon?"

"You'll just have to watch and see."

"Thomas!! You _have_ to tell me!"

"Shut up, you, or I'll shut you up," the taller Virginian muttered fondly, pressing his lips to James' in a quick, silencing kiss. They had taken up cuddling about halfway through, now left as a tangled mass of Thomas' long limbs and James' small body curled up in the middle.

Thomas looked down at his husband. "Are you... are you shaking?"

"I'm cold."

"Are you scared of the abominable snowman?!"

"I said I'm cold, this sweater is only two layers and a vest, Thomas, leave it," James snapped, burrowing himself further under their heap of blankets and against Thomas' chest. Thomas hugged him tighter, chuckling.

"Sure."

When the last song of the movie was being sung, James was legitimately crying.

"The t-t-toys all got homes!" he hiccupped, dabbing at his flooding eyes with the corner of the blankets, "Even the m-misfits!"  

"Need a kleenex, sugar?" Thomas asked knowingly. James shook his head, sniffling.

"I've got my own."

Pulling out a travel pack of tissues, the shorter man sat up on the couch. "I loved that so much."

"I can tell."

"Why in all hell did you not show me this sooner?!"

"We've only been married for a year."

"I've known you since we were seven, you've had plenty of time!"

"Well, Rudolph is a cuddling movie, you can't not cuddle during Rudolph." James gave Thomas a look, and rolled his eyes.

"I love you, you idiot."

"Merry Christmas, Jemmy... I love me too." He jumped up. "Now let's go make _shortbread!_ "


	22. December 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home Alone kidfic ft. Angelicaaaa, Eliiiiza, and Peggy! Some slight Jeffmads at the end, I couldn't resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some aspects of HA are changed in this, including the house being an orphanage run by Washington. :)

"Okay," Washington said, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun on the snow, "Is everybody present?"

"Yessir!" Thomas, the oldest of the group of orphans, announced, "I counted."

"He counted," James nodded eagerly, popping out from behind his closest friend. Washington hummed, eyes narrowing.

"I'll do one more check, just for, eh... good measure. One, two, three," he looked over, counting the heads of Thomas, James, and Burr, "Four," he continued, counting Maria. He then gazed over to the three hats he saw poking out from behind the vans- they were all the respective favourite colours of the Schuyler sisters.

"I already sent Alex ahead with Lafayette, Hercules and John..." George murmured to himself, "That must be the sisters." He counted altogether, then nodded, satisfied. "Aaron... you keeping time?"

"0800 hours, sir."

"Alright, kids- let's move undercover and move as one before we miss this damn flight! We're already behind schedule."

Alex, Laf, and John all turned to where the others were boarding the vans, and looked at each other. Alex had a pink hat on, Laf had a yellow, and John had a blue. They shrugged at each other.

"The sisters must already be in the one of the other vans," John murmured, and suddenly, Herc burst out of one of the snow banks, starting to sing All I Want For Christmas.

Everyone raced to the airport terminal once they got there, George in the lead. Nobody dared refuse them boarding... Washington was too imposing a man, and they had technically arrived with forty-two seconds to spare (according to Aaron's time keeping). They all settled into their seats on the plane, and just as Washington relaxed in knowing he and the kids were all safely on their way to France for the holidays, he did one more head count... and it hit him in a wave of panic.

"Angelica! Peggy! Eliza!"

_"Work, work."_

_"Work, work."_

_"Work, work."_

"Can someone shut that stupid alarm off?" Angelica murmured, rolling back over. Eliza stretched in their shared, three person bed, her big brown eyes blinking open.

"It gets me up in the morning... it inspires me to actually do something."

"You're nine, what can you do?" Angelica, who was ten, smirked fondly.

"Homework," Eliza shrugged. Suddenly, eight-year-old Peggy yawned, stretching her little arms over the blankets.

"Did Daddy wake us up?"

"GWash isn't up yet..." Angelica muttered, and listened. "Matter of fact, sounds like no one is."

"Everyone should be shouting and getting ready downstairs," Eliza murmured, "We should at least hear Herc's voice!"

"Unless..." Angelica gasped.

"They forgot us!" Eliza shrieked.

"Oh my god, oh my god," Peggy whispered, "We're going to die, we're going to die, we're gonna-"

"We're not going to die, we've got lots and lots of Christmas cake in the pantry," Angelica retorted.

"Mmmm," Eliza moaned.

"We're going to spend Christmas all alone!" Peggy began to sniffle, and Eliza crawled over the big, fluffy bed to hug her sister.

"We're not gonna be alone... we have each other!"

"How could GWash forget us?" Angelica muttered, launching herself out of bed with purpose.

"It probably had something to do with Hamilton," Eliza sighed, "He's behind everything."

"Him or Jefferson," Angelica reminded.

"Or both, as a result of their animosity," Eliza added.

"What's animosity mean?" Peggy asked, tugging on her slippers.

"It's when two people hate each other very much."

"Oh... like Alex and Tommy!"

"Yup," the two older sisters said at the same time. The three went down the stairs to survey the premises- the large house-serving-orphanage was, indeed, empty... and they were not the only ones who knew this.

"Tonight, then?" Samuel giggled excitedly from the car, and George tutted with a scowl.

"Patience, Seabury. To properly rob one's residence, it takes time, precision, and delicacy."

"Of course, of course, yes."

"Now go survey the home."

"M-Me?!"

"Yes, you!"

"B-but... I heard they have a large, vicious dog!"

"It appears to be more of a feline, but if that's how you're inclined to describe it," George smirked, pointing to the second floor window that a tabby was pacing upon.

"Ah," Samuel gulped, "Right away then, sir."

"Godspeed, Seabury."

"I'll be back, sir!"

"Yes you will, my dear fellow," George clucked his tongue idly and gazing up at the expensive house, "You'll be back." He shook his head, watching his inept partner in crime skip off to survey the residence.

Samuel knocked on the large white door, and Angelica looked up from where she was pouring cereal. Eliza gasped softly, and Peggy peeked over the counter. "Hello! Anybody home?! I'm your, eh... new neighbour, and it would be pleasant to introduce myself!"

"New neighbour?" Angelica whispered, scrunching up her nose, "As far as I know, the Adams haven't moved."

"Who _is_ it?" the youngest hissed, bouncing up to try and see. Eliza looked through the translucent glass by the door.

"I can't tell..."

The three hurried over, sliding across the hardwood in their socks, and pressed their ears to the door to listen.

"There's nobody here, sir!" Samuel called cheerfully out to the car, and George glared, sending him a signal that read 'shut the actual fuck up.' Samuel frowned. "Pardon, sir?!"

"Quiet!"

"Riot?! Oh, dear me, no, there'll be no need- we can be in and out tonight if we so wish!"

"Shut _up_ , Seabury!"

"You're very welcome, sir."

George held his head in his hands. Samuel was going to get them both thrown in jail one day, no doubt.

"Did you hear that?" Peggy gulped, "They're gonna..."

"Be in and out!" Eliza finished, chewing on her lip, "What... what does that mean?"

"They're gonna try and rob the place," Angelica huffed, crossing her arms.

"We simply can't have that!" Eliza shrieked, "We've got nothing to protect ourselves with!"

"That's not entirely true..." Angie murmured, padding over to the TV. "Remember that old movie Mr. and Mrs. Washington were watching the other night?"

"Which one... 'You will be haunted by three spirits' or Keep the change, ya filthy animal?" Peggy asked, doing the voices.

"That last one."

"Oh..." Eliza whispered, then her eyes lit up. " _Oh_!"

"I'll punch 'em right between the eyes," Peggy nodded, brows furrowing as she put up her tiny fists, and Angie put a hand on her shoulder.

"If we can scare them off before Christmas, there won't be any need."

 Promptly, they got to putting in the tape. They rewound it until they got to the perfect spot, and they listened to the man in the film knock on the door.

_"Who is it?"_

_"It's me, Philip. I've got the stuff."_

_The man at the table looked up from his papers. "Leave it on the doorstep, and get the hell out of here."_

_"Alright, Eacker... but what about my money?"_

_"What money?!"_

_"Theo said you had some dough for me."_

_"That a fact? How much do I owe ya?"_

_"Theo said ten percent."_

_"Too bad Theo ain't in charge anymore."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"She's upstairs, takin' a bath... she'll call you when she gets out." He got up from his desk. "Hey- I'll tell you what I'm gonna give you, Pip." He took out a machine gun. "I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to get your yella, no good, ugly kiester off my property, before I pump your guts full of lead!" Peggy huddled into Eliza nervously, who was watching, enraptured, with Angelica._

_"Alright Eacker, I'm sorry! I'm goin'."_

_"One... two... three... four... five..." Philip began backing up. "Six... seven!"_ The man at desk began spraying bullets, and Peggy cried out, hiding her eyes. Angelica and Eliza kept watching with wide eyes, until Angelica took out the tape.

"Catch my drift?"

"W-we're not shooting anybody, are we?" Peggy asked.

"No, Pegs," Eliza calmed her down, "I'm pretty sure George doesn't even keep a gun. We'll just use this if they try to get in."

Peggy nodded. "Okay. Until then... can we have some cereal?" Eliza took Peggy over to the pantry, while Angelica flipped on all the Christmas lights. The house looked so much bigger without all the other little kids running around.

"We're out of rice krispies," Eliza gasped.

"No."

"No!"

"Yes," Eliza cried. Angelica set her hands on her hips. "Washington said once that he has an emergency drawer with a money-card in it. Well this, girls, is definitely an emergency."

"Definitely."

"But... daddy said not to leave the house if he's not here," Peggy mumbled.

"Daddy doesn't need to know," Angelica rolled her eyes. Eliza patted her on the head, and Peggy reluctantly shrugged.

"If you say so... we need eggnog, too!"

So, the girls were on their way, convinced the strange voices at the door wouldn't be back until much later; after all, they couldn't just survive on spinach and Christmas cake. They remembered to find the spare keys and lock up the house before they found their way to their local supermarket, tracing the steps Herc, being the second oldest, takes when he's sent out for groceries.

"We could really use Hercules to carry all the stuff we're gonna get," Peggy mumbled.

"We'll be fine on our own," Angelica replied swiftly.

They were not fine.

Trying to lug a cartful of six eggnog cartons, two boxes of rice krispies (Christmas themed with the red and green puffs, Peggy had begged), one bottle of laundry detergent (for practicality, Eliza insisted), and one hundred little bottles of mocktail mojito (we've got this card all to ourselves. We need to at least push the limits, Angelica had smirked.) But they had only themselves to blame as they stared blankly at the seven bags they had purchased, and the skeptical cashier.

The lady with the nametag, Abigail, rolled her eyes. "You got parents to call to come help you with this, or did they stick you with grocery duty?"

"The latter," Angelica told her, before her sisters could speak or tell the truth that they had been forgotten at home for Christmas. That could get child services in the mix.

"Jesus," Abigail muttered, "Least they could do is send you with a tote bag or something. What are you, five?"

"Nine," Eliza protested, "But my mind is older!" Peggy and Angelica both nodded along with that statement, so Abigail shrugged.

"Cool. All the more power to you... just don't get run over on your way home, kids."

"Oh no, we would never," Peggy shook her head, picking up three bags and swaying under the weight, "We wouldn't want to waste all that eggnog." After taking their card back, the three little girls exited the store carrying two or three each, leaving a line of customers staring after them in astonishment.

When they got back from their shopping trip, the young Schuyler sisters found the house just as they had left it; still empty.

"I... I just hope they'll make it back in time for Christmas," Peggy mumbled dejectedly, discarding the bags.

"It's still early," Angelica shrugged, putting a hand on her shoulder, "Don't give up hope just yet." Eliza immediately took on the roll of den mother.

"Don't just leave the food by the door, it'll go bad! I'm going to make sandwiches because it's way past our lunchtimes, I hope you all like spinach, because we forgot to get peanut butter and jelly." Angelica made a face, and Peggy opened the lowest cabinet.

"It's Christmas Eve. I say we eat cake for breakfast!"

"Well..." Eliza began, but was too tempted by the glistening red icing of the yule log sitting in Peggy's little hands.  

\-----

"Once this flight touches down, we're getting right back on another one home."

"But Washington," Alexander groaned.

"Son, don't Washington me-"

"Don't call me son."

"Three little girls home alone?" James cut in to avoid public conflict, "Yes, the best option here is turning back."

"You're two years older than them, James, don't pretend you're so mature," Alex snapped, crossing his arms. Thomas placed a hand on his heart, staring out the window of the plane.

"Alas, I will never see the beauty of France."

"Ah, you will one day, mon ami!" Laf assured him, "There is plenty of time." Thomas wiped a tear.

"Yes, one day... one day."

"For now, we've gotta focus on getting back before Christmas morning," Washington said firmly, checking the flight time. It didn't land for another two and a half hours.

\-----

"It's four in the afternoon, sir," Samuel said apprehensively.

"I want to make absolutely sure nobody is in that house, Seabury. We are going for a test break in- one alarm, and we're out."

"But they have a gold statue of the first treasury secretary on their porch... not to mention their ridiculously large Christmas tree! These are people of excess... we could certainly 'strike it' at this place!"

"Quite right, you move me... alright, we'll go in, and if there are complications, we shall simply iron them out and get the job done, as we always do," George nodded, smacking his hands together with a curt smile.

"Of course, s-"

"Drive, Seabury."

"Yes, sir."

Once they got back to the big house, both crept up to the porch. Samuel inspected the plaque underneath the Hamilton statue, and gasped softly.

"S-sir! This is an orphanage!"

"Your point?" George muttered, inspecting the double lock.

"W-Well... I could be horribly mistaken, sir, but... don't you think we ought to... refrain from robbing orphans on Christmas Eve? Just, just a thought."

"Orphans or no, they have a great deal of money in this house. Would you rather give that up?"

"N-no, sir."

"No sir, indeed." George finished picking at it, and Angelica whipped around, eyes shooting to the door.

"It's time."

They pressed play, and out came the sounds of the movie Washington had been watching.

_"Who is it?"_

"Samuel Sea- _oof_!" George tackled Samuel down, and they stayed quiet for a second.

"You didn't tell me someone was home," George hissed. Samuel shrugged helplessly, and the shorter man rolled his eyes.

"Um, erm... Delivery!" George sing-songed, glaring at Seabury.

_"Leave it on the doorstep and get the hell out of here."_

Samuel swallowed, glancing over at George. He looked a tad apprehensive.

"W-Well... you... you have to sign your name!"

_"That a fact?"_

George looked at Samuel, and turned back. "Ehm, well... well, yes, it is customary to-" Angelica fast-forwarded to the perfect moment.

 _"I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to get your_ _yella, no good, ugly kiester off my property, before I pump your guts full of lead!"_

"Oh, dear me," Samuel muttered, stumbling back.

_"One... two..."_

"C-Can't we talk about this, s-sir?!"

_"Six... seven!"_

George's eyes widened, and the two thieves dropped to the snow as they heard gunshots firing off. Samuel screamed, and they scrambled behind the tree until the noises had stopped.

"Wait just a moment..." George whispered, and beckoned for Samuel to follow. His poor partner wouldn't budge, scared shitless.

"Seabury, _here, now,_ or _I'll_ shoot you!" George growled. Samuel scampered after him, and they huddled near the window. "No bullet holes."

"Your point?" Samuel croaked, voice cracking.

"No bullet holes means _no gun_." George raised his eyebrows, and Samuel's face cleared a little.

"I see."

The two slowly popped up, checking inside the window through a crack in the curtains.

"Look at this... three little girls."

"We're not going to kidnap them, are we?" Samuel asked, and George slapped him upside his head.

"I want nothing to do with those little rats. We shall evade them, tie them up, get what we need, and get out."

"Will we leave them tied up, sir?"

" _Why_ do you ask?!"

"They could get hungry-"

"SEABURY!"

"Sir, sorry sir!"

The sisters grinned at each other inside, celebrating their victory, until they heard a British voice right outside the window.

"We'll be back, before the night is over. If you call the police, I will kill your friends and family," George grinned, "As a gesture of my holiday spirit. Toodles for now, darlings!" He grabbed Seabury's hand, dragging the stuttering man with him.

"Wasn't that a little excessive?"

"Not when dealing with little brats, Seabury, you have a lot to learn."

"Ah, yes sir, I see sir."

Angelica took the hands of her sisters, and dragged them upstairs. "We need to devise a plan. Tonight is Christmas Eve- they can't take that from us."

"B-but that man said-" Peggy began, eyes wide and frightened.

"Nothing's going to happen to us or anyone we know," Eliza cut in, "Plus, nobody's home to get hurt."

"What if everyone comes home tonight, and we're nothing but a pile of-"

"Stop that immediately," Angelica snapped, "They're in France, and they won't get back until at least tomorrow, if they're even trying."

"Which, they are," Eliza assured.

"So nothing's going to happen to anyone. 'Course, there's only one way we can _assure_ they don't get in." Eliza nodded, smacking a fist into her palm.

"Blow them all away."  

For the next few hours, the girls worked on traps all over the house, putting what resources they did have to good use. Angelica hung pans from the kitchen from a wire, rigged to snap and smack whoever walks in the backdoor.

Eliza worked on the front staircase directly in front of the door, rigging a pot of boiling eggnog (they had way too much to ever make use of) to spill if the door was opened. She also lined the steps with Christmas bulbs, which would shatter once stepped on.

Peggy sprinkled slippery oil and tiny pieces of lego in front of every window, the lego borrowed from Alexander's room- but she was sure he wouldn't mind much.

"Mess with us," Angelica grinned, crossing her arms as she surveyed their handiwork, "You get dragged."

"Damn right," Eliza smiled. Meanwhile, Peggy stuck a long, curly straw up into the eggnog bucket, taking a sip and making a face.

"It's all warm." Angelica pulled her little sister in tight, and the three waited.

At the airport in France, Washington argued at a desk.

"You don't understand, I left my three girls at home! All alone!" 

"Pardonez moi?!" the woman asked, shocked.

"No, I... non, je... je ne fais pas... je... les a laissés mourir..." The woman looked horrified, and Lafayette cut in, tugging on George's jacket.

"Daddy, may I?"

"Be my guest, Gilbert," George sighed, letting the small boy come forward and get on Herc's shoulders to talk to the employee.

"Bonjour, belle madame. Nous avons besoin d'un vol dès que possible à Nouveau York. Nos petites sœurs ont été laissées là par accident, et nous devons les atteindre en cas de problème. Combien de temps faut-il attendre?" (We need a flight as soon as possible back to New York. our baby sisters were left there by accident, and we must get to them in case there is trouble. How long must we wait for this?) he spoke, the little boy's mother tongue impeccable and too fast for even Alex, who was fluent in French, to understand.

"Ah, oui. Ehhh, puisqu'il est Noël, ce sera un moment ... vous ne serez pas sortir jusqu'à demain matin, mais je vais vous mettre dans un vol dès que possible." (Since it is Christmas, it will be a while... you will not get out until tomorrow morning, but I will put you in for a flight as soon as possible.)

"It is taken care of," Laf smiled up at George, who ruffled his hair.

"What would I do without you?"

Alexander frowned, feeling shafted. "I can speak Portuguese!"

Aaron turned to him, impressed. "Really?" Alex kicked the ground, crossing his arms.

"If I tried, probably."

Back at the house in America, it was nearing the time George and Samuel had planned to rob the place.

"Sir, I'm having second thoughts."

"I swear to the good lord Jesus Christ, Seabury, one more word from you and I will call 911 to report a tall lanky fellow with _mousy brown hair lurking about_!"

Samuel gulped, straightening his parka. "Message received, sir, loud and clear."

They crept up to the door, and began to pick it again. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy were all sitting on the couch, Peggy staring at the screen upside down from where they were watching A Muppet's Christmas Carol.

"After aaaall, there's only one more sleep 'til Christmas!" Eliza sang sweetly, and Angelica hummed along with Peggy as they swayed with the music. The door jiggled, and they fell off the couch, looking up suddenly at the entranceway. They heard low whispers, and saw the shorter of the shadows creep along the side of the house to the back.

"'Liza, you take the kitchen," Angelica whispered, "Peggy, with me." Peggy nodded enthusiastically, clinging to Angie's pink nightgown.

"It's go time," Eliza muttered, and put on a mask. She went over to the pans, stuck them on the stove for a few seconds, then tugged them up higher as the lock began to jiggle.

"Nog 'em up," Angelica smirked, and Peggy took one last longing look at the bucket of eggnog before pulling the wire. The door slammed open just in time, and George got splattered with searing hot liquid.

"GYAHH!" he screamed, running into a wall. Eliza snipped the wire holding up the pans, and just as Samuel rushed through the back, the pans smacked him in the face and stomach, hissing against him.

"MOTHER OF ROYAL SHIT!" he shouted in anguish, and George looked up from the living room.

" _Gracious_ , Seabury. I had no idea you were so cra-" Suddenly, Angelica came up behind him and whacked him in the head with a Christmas gift that she found under the tree. It turned out to be a book, which was helpful, because George now lay, groaning, on the carpet. Samuel, blowing on his steaming wounds, ran through the house, attempting to run up the stairs.

"What did your mother always teach you, Samuel?" he mumbled to himself, "Be polite when entering someone else's home." He turned to the three storming little girls. "M-May I use your washroom?" he asked sweetly, before knocking them all over. Making a run for it, he unfortunately didn't see the slippery substance on the stairs, his ass hitting the legos. He screamed, shrieking as he fell back down the stairs, slipping and landing on his back with a moan.

"Face it... you've been severely taken down," Peggy squeaked, from behind Angelica. She took another Christmas gift, tossing it at Samuel's head and knocking him out.

"The police are on their way," Eliza announced, gleefully clapping. The three sisters shared a group hug as George woke up to find himself bound in Christmas lights.

"Seabury!" he tried hissing, but Samuel was out cold, snoring with his face up. George turned tiredly to the Schuyler sisters, who stood over him imposingly.

"Seriously?" he asked, giving them a look, "You have no adults around this place? None at all who I can properly reason with here?"

"Hey! I've read Common Sense by Thomas Paine!" Angelica shot back, scowling, "That's at least an eighth grade level book."

"Anyway, we're home alone!" Peggy grinned.

"Agh... you're on your- _agh_ \- own," George muttered, trying to wriggle free, "Awesome, wow! Do you even have a clue what happens now?"

"Yeah... our dad comes home with all the other kids we live with," Eliza said.

"And congratulations- you've invented a new kind of stupid by breaking into our house, and you're gonna go to jail for it, you British jerkbag," Angelica added. Peggy gasped.

"That was really mean."

"It was," George pouted petulantly, and they heard sirens.

A little later, after the two men were arrested, Eliza watched as the police waved to them.

"Are you sure we shouldn't have just let them take us to the station for the night?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"Of course. Washington will be home with everyone soon, and I want to be waiting when he does. We survived all this... I want to have something to show for it!" They woke Peggy up, who was napping in a pile of lego, and trudged upstairs to bed.

"Merry Christmas."

"Yeah... Merry Christmas."

The next morning, they all woke up to a voice.

"Angelica?! ELIZA!"

"And Peggy!" Peggy sat bolt upright in bed, flying down the stairs and almost tripping over herself.

"Daddy!"

Washington picked her up in a hug, swinging her around. "I'm so sorry... I don't know how I could have-"

"GWash!" Angelica yelled, and Eliza slip-slid through the oil to rush down as well.

"What's all this olive oil doing on the stairs?" Hercules made a face. "This is going to take weeks to get out of the hardwood..."

"Better start cleaning now, mon ami," Laf grinned, and Herc glared.

"I ain't cleanin' this up!"

"I will clean it up," Washington sighed, "Whatever happened, this is all my fault in the first place, so... I'm just glad you three are safe."

"What _did_ happen?" Aaron whispered to Angelica, who shrugged.

"Somewhat of a revolution. I don't think you're brave enough to hear about it."

"I wanna hear!" Alex yelped.

"Mmm, do tell," Thomas quirked an eyebrow, propping an elbow on James' head in preparation for a story.

"Well," Eliza began, but George interrupted.

"Everyone, go put your things upstairs. It's still Christmas morning, and we got home just in time- Santa's got presents for everyone."

"Look at this one!" Peggy mumbled, already unwrapping something by the tree, "Woah! A nerf gun!"

Angelica and Eliza looked at each other. "Give it to Lafayette... we find pans and lego much more effective than guns."

George gave them a strange look, and James slipped on a lego with a loud scream, knocking some mistletoe down over his head as Thomas delicately stepped by him.

"Oh. Merry Christmas to you too, Jemmy," Thomas batted his eyelashes, and kissed James on the cheek as the Schuyler sisters shared a meaningful glance- that was one Christmas Eve they would never forget.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be two updates tomorrow, since I skipped a day! One more sleep 'til Christmas Eve!! <3


	23. December 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elf au ft. Lams!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for light smut in this one, just brief masturbation. (and hyper!cheery Alex!!!!)

How does a bastard orphan go on to save Christmas with his friends and newfound family? This is the story of how Alexander Hamilton did just that- though we will never remember him as the true hero of the holiday, we can spread Christmas cheer just as he did those merry few days...

\-----

“My father is _WHAT_?!”

Alexander Hamilton’s voice rang out over the snowy hills of Christmas town, every elf covering their ears with the force of his exclamation.

“George Washington… third one down on the naughty list, I’m afraid,” Santa sighed, checking the huge book in front of him.

“You don’t even know your father, Alex,” one elf pointed out, “You only found out about him five minutes ago. He could just be a naughty guy by nature!”

“No,” Alexander gasped, shaking his head adamantly, “I absolutely _refuse_ to believe that." He covered his mouth. "My own dad… on the naughty list…”

“Now, calm down, Alex,” Santa hushed, “He just needs a little guidance, don’t you think?” The pseudo-elf’s eyes widened.

“Are you… are you suggesting… what I think you are?”

“I am.”

“But I’ve never been outside the North Pole before!”

“Perhaps it’s time you went on a big adventure to a great, wonderful place called New York City,” Santa said, handing him a globe with a bunch of buildings in it. Alex stared with wide eyes.

“ _New York City_ … peppermint patties, it sounds magical!”

“Well,” Santa sighed, looking at the only "elf" he was eye-level with in the workshop, “At least you’ll finally fit in.”

So, Alexander Hamilton set off on his quest to find his father. He crossed the seven levels of the candy cane forest, through the sea of swirly, twirly gumdrops, then he walked through the Lincoln Tunnel.

"This must be it," he said aloud, and stopped a woman with cropped platinum hair walking by. "This is beautiful!" he exclaimed brightly. She frowned.

"What is?"

"New York City!"

The lady glanced back with a weird look. "If you say so."

Alexander hurried on, looking up at the giant building like the one in the snow globe. Santa had said his father worked there, so that was the first stop in this grand new place. Walking through the streets, the happy man tried to wish every single person a merry Christmas- he got all of four greetings back.

"People don't seem to be very happy here," he muttered aloud, looking around, "I don't see why. This is the greatest city in the world!" He shouted this last exclamation, attracting glances... he waved to every person who stared at him.

Rushing through the doors of the empire state building, Alex beamed. He was finally going to meet his father: Mr. George Washington, the boss of this company... kind of like Santa was the boss of the north pole! Alexander _already_ had a reason to like him now.

"Morning. Can I help you?" a bored looking secretary asked, propping his chin up on his fist. He had buzzed hair and a slim, tall-ish build.

"I'd like to see my da- um, Mr. Washington, please!" Alexander grinned, "By the way, I love your little Christmas tree you've got on the desk here, it's... it's really cute." The guy blinked.

"I didn't put it there. Anyway, his office is right over there- he's got a meeting in fifteen minutes, so make it quick."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Alex squealed, and fanned himself. "Okay... I can do this." He whipped around to face the secretary again. "How do I look?"

The guy looked up, exhaling tiredly. "Beautiful."

"Oh, you're too kind," Alex giggled, and burst full force into the door marked _"G. Washington."_

"DAD!" he shouted, and the man at the desk glanced up from his computer. He was extremely tall, bald, and had strong eyebrows.

"Excuse me?" the man asked, frowning. Alex began shifting from foot to foot, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jacket, and George huffed. "Mr. Burr, who is this?"

"Probably a singing holiday card, sir," Burr replied, shrugging, "He's wearing a green satin elf-thingie... what else could he be?" Washington took a deep breath, and placed his papers down on his keyboard.

"Very well. Get on with it, then, I've got work to do."

"G-get on with what?" Alex asked nervously, suddenly speechless in the presence of his _actual_ father, whom he hadn't met once over his twenty six years.

"Your song," George muttered.

"Oh... oh, you want me to sing a song?" Alex began to smile, "Yeah, okay!" He thought for a second, then began snapping a beat for himself.

"Alexander Hamilton... my name is Alexander Hamilton... and there's a million things I haven't done... but just you wait, just you wait..." he began to dance as well now, attracting the glances of everyone in the office, "When I was one my father split, full of it, left me at an orphanage (but I'm not mad, it's totally cool)- two years later see me in the North Pole helpin' Santa make coal, 'cause I was the biggest elf there, so rare. Santa fin'ly told me I had a real dad, I had to leave it was sad, but I knew my real dad'd be rad! So..." Alex caught his breath, grinning, "Here I am!"

George stared at Alex for a long time, before Burr began the slow clap. The boss got up, shaking his head.

"I don't have time for this. Get this elf-guy out of here."

"B-But dad!" Alex protested, a heartbroken look in his eyes.

"I have one son, and it's certainly not you. I've never seen you before in my life!"

"My mum, you must remember her... her name was Rachel Fawcett!"

George hesitated at this, looking back at Alex through narrowed eyes.

"How do you know her?" he demanded.

"She was my mother!"

"She died years ago."

"Duh, I know, dad."

"Stop calling me that!"

"But you're my dad!"

"I am _not_."

"Dad-dad-dad-dad-dad-"

"Mr. Burr, remove this delusional man," George huffed, "Before I do."

"Yes sir," Burr sighed, and put a hand on Alex's shoulder.

"Well, it's been swell, Mr. Hamilton. Now get the fuck out."

Alex looked up at the Empire State, blinking back tears. He had just been tossed out onto the sidewalk, after meeting his dad... an eventful, but ultimately unsatisfying day.

There had to be some way to get to George... suddenly, his eye caught a glorious display across the street. There were presents, penguins, falling snow, and even a giant Santa, waving. Large words above the display read "MACY'S."

"SANTA!" Alexander screamed, startling a few small passing children. He barrelled through them across the street, through the angry traffic, and over to the window display. He began knocking at the glass, waving for Santa. Then he realized he could go in.

"Wow," he breathed. This place was even bigger than Santa's workshop... and there was _stuff_ everywhere. Alex walked by the racks of clothes, scooping up every Christmas sweater he saw until he couldn't see over his armful. He even went by a rack that read, 'For A Special Someone' and thought of his father... That's when he heard it.

"What the hell are you doing down here, man?! You're supposed to be upstairs!" Alex pouted as the clothes were taken from him, and he was led by a very large, burly man with a nametag that read, 'Hercules' on it. "Now, breaks are fifteen minutes only, and lunch was a half hour ago! Get your ass back up to the workshop."

"Uh... okay?" Alex mumbled, and walked the escalator to a place that made his eyes widen. This was exactly like the north pole...

"The north pole!" he shouted, and spotted some more elves. "Hi!" he introduced himself to someone with a maroon comb-over, "I'm Alexander Hamilton, I'm an elf, and you're an elf too, cool!" The guy swore under his breath, walking away, and Alexander then saw someone decorating the tree... someone more beautiful than the shiniest gumdrop in the world.

"Hello," Alexander said, awestruck at the man in front of him, "I'm Alexander Hamilton." The guy looked down. He had freckles and frizzy brown hair contained under a pointy cap, and was wearing a green outfit much like Alexander's own.  

 "Hey," the guy nodded, "John Laurens. You new? Never seen you around before."

"I just came from the North Pole," Alex explained, "I came to New York City to find my daddy."

"Oh," John nodded slowly, gauging the man before him, "Your... your sugar daddy, or...?" Alex considered this.

"I don't know if he makes sugar, but maybe I'll ask him when he finally accepts me as his legitimate son."

John opened his mouth slowly. "Uh huh. Well, cool."

"Yeah, it is. So, how long have you been an elf?"

"Long enough to pay the rent," John laughed, unwrapping another bulb to hang.

"Oh... well, I don't know what that means, but you make a very pretty elf," Alex commented, then blushed. John's eyes widened a little, a smile appearing on his face.

"I- W-well, thanks, man." He blushed a little too, and suddenly, Hercules popped in between them.

"DID I HIRE YOU FUCKERS TO FLIRT?! NO, SIR, I DID NOT! BACK TO WORK!"

John rolled his eyes. "Herc takes his job way too seriously around here. He seems a little scary at first, but don't worry- he's a teddy bear."

"Okay," Alex murmured, watching the manager.

Suddenly, he noticed a sign. "Oh my peppermint twizzlers... Santa's coming tomorrow?"

"Yeah," John muttered with a smirk, "Kids love him. The lines are gonna be crazy long tomorrow, so be prepared."

"Speaking of preparation," Alex whispered, "This place is totally _not_ fit for Santa's visit. A man of his stature at least deserves _snow_." He looked around the place, nodding. "I've got so much work to do."

That night, when everyone else had gone home, Alexander stayed in the little workshop on the top floor of Macy's, making decorations. He cut snowflakes out, he set toys up... he even drew a portrait of Abraham Lincoln on an etch n sketch. The hour came before opening, and a single set of footsteps could be heard on their way to the employee showers. Alex followed curiously... it was a little early still, wasn't it? He listened in, and heard the shower turn on, accompanied by a voice.

"Yo, I'm John Laurens in the place to be, a-two pints of Sam Adams, but I'm workin' on three, ha! Those rappers don't want it with me, 'cause I will pop, chick-a prop, these cops 'til I'm free!" Alex sat down inside the door, listening as steam began to float out. He was a talented rapper... Listening further, Alex heard John's rapping fade away- it was soon replaced by low moans, with a dirty encouragement every now and then. Alexander didn't understand.

"Fuck, baby," John whispered to himself in the shower, prodding his fingers deeper into himself while tugging his half-hard morning erection, "Yeah, gonna need those deeper... shit, yeah..." His breath hitched, and a deep groan rang out through the room. It's fine though, John thought with a bite to his lip, no one was at work at this hour except him. "Fuck, _please_ -!"

Alex frowned. Was he in trouble? Maybe he should say something, just to make sure John was alright...

"Y-Y-You have a beautiful voice."

"JESUS, FUCKIN-" The water slammed off, and out stepped a very shocked, very naked John Laurens.

"Holy holly," Alexander gawked, and John blushed furiously, grabbing a towel.

"What the fuck are you doing in here while I'm taking a shower?!" John squeaked.

"I heard your voice, and-"

"And you decided to join me in here, for a big party?!"

"I... I didn't think you'd mind the company."

"Are you shitting me right now? You're not just tryin' to get a piece?"

"A piece... of what? Fruitcake? Oh, I love fruitcake, don't you?"

John frowned. "You bein' in here doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm naked?" He looked down. "And... well, hard?"

"I didn't know you were naked, I'm _really_ _really_ sorry. Though, your body is most definitely hotter than the swells of molten chocolate in Santa's-"

"Okay, shit," John muttered, shaking his head, "I believe you."

"I wasn't lying when I said you sounded nice."

John blushed, turning away. "Man... truth is, I'm here to pay the bills while I try to make it as a rapper. Doesn't pay, y'know? I can't even pay for my own hydro, gotta use the work showers. So, I've gotta have a fallback, at least until people start knowin' my name." Alex nodded like he knew what John meant, and John shifted uncomfortably, his boner still painfully present. "Look... Alexander? I'm not mad about this whole thing... just... I gotta...um," he took a breath, realizing what he was trying to say would not, in fact, get through to Alex. "I've... er... got to wrap some presents that I don't want you to see."

"Oh!" Alex gasped, getting up immediately, "Oh, I'll leave you to it, then. Sorry! See you in the workshop!"

John sighed, shaking his head as the door clicked closed.

That day went very well... until it didn't. Alexander flipped his shit when he saw Santa Clause, who... wasn't exactly Santa Clause. Alex quickly found this out when he heard this Santa's voice.

"Santa's not British," he hissed in the employee's ear. The Santa just shrugged him off, turning back to the child.

"So, what would you like for Christmas this year, my little darling?" he asked a small girl, who beamed up at him.

"You're not Santa," Alex growled, "You're a fraud."

Santa tried to talk over him. "Don't listen to him, what would you like, tot?"

"You're an identity thief... how dare you?" Alex asked venomously.

"You're playing a dangerous game," the employee growled back, then smiled at the child.

"You're mangey, my dog sounds more like Santa than you do!"

"Shut _up_!"

"That suit is a responsibility. Why should a tiny loser like you get to wear it? You sit on a throne of lies!" Alex yelled, and tackled the Santa to pull off his beard. Underneath, a nervous looking brunette glared at him, with a nametag that read, 'Samuel.'

"This is not the solution!" he yelped, "G-Get off me!"

Hercules came in. "What the JOLLY JESUS is going on in my workshop?!"

"It's not your workshop, it's Santa's," Alex pointed out, "The _real_ Santa's." Kids everywhere were crying, and Herc glared at Alexander.

"You. Out. Now."

John watched from the window as Alexander dusted himself off on the street, almost getting run over by a taxi. He was a strange guy... a strange, attractively enamouring guy, that made John want more, despite the holiday shenanigans.

Out on the street for the second time since only the day before, Alex blew hair out of his face, and pulled the gift he had taken earlier from the store out of his pocket, gift wrapped and everything. He decided to bring it up to his dad, for attempt number 2.

"Oh no," Burr muttered to himself as Alex marched in, "No, no you're not allowed in h-"

"I want to see Mr. Washington," Alexander insisted.

"Mr. Hamilton, please d-"

"Burr- oh my god, your name is the same noise I make when I'm cold- sorry, Burr, I need to see him, please."

Aaron shook his head. "You try one weird thing, you'll be out on your ass faster than you can say Rudolph." Alexander nodded once.

"Got it, yep."

Burr sighed, buzzing George. "You've got a familiar face here to see you."

"Is it my son?" George's voice came out, and Alex got hopeful.

"No, your son's at work still. It's... uh... the other guy." Without waiting, Alex bounded into George's office, plunking the gift down on his desk.

"For you, dad."

"Who let this asshole back in?" George scowled.

"Please, open my gift!" Alexander protested, as security appeared. George calculated the odds of Alex leaving him alone if he did, and reluctantly began to tear into the box.

"Fine." He opened it to find the tag, 'For A Special Someone', attached to a set of fluffy red, white and blue lingerie.

"I saw a flag with those colours on your desk yesterday, so I thought you might like this," Alex grinned, then held a hand up. "No need to thank me, dad- family needs no thanks for giving to one another."

George stood up. "Alright. Let's nip this in the bud- we're going to get a DNA test."

"A what?"

"As far as I know, Rachel didn't have any children before she passed. So, we're going to have a test to see if you're really my biological son.."

"But Santa said-!"

" _I_ said, follow me!"

 Washington took Alex by the hand, and they walked down to a nearby clinic, where they had a DNA test done.

"It's a boy," the doctor told Washington, and George balked.

"I'm sorry, what?!"

"He's your son," the doctor shrugged, looking at the papers, "Same DNA. Congratulations!"

"Shit," George muttered. So, Alex found himself riding home with Washington, back to his condo.

"Thanks for taking me home, dad!" Alex grinned, and George bristled.

"Stop calling me that. And I can't leave you out on the street, so... until you find a way of getting back to... wherever you came from, it's the only option."

"I can't wait to meet my other family!" Alex went on, seemingly disregarding that last reply.

George looked extremely pained. "I have a son about your age... he pays half the rent, lives in his own wing of the place. And _you_ just created the most awkward of talks I'm going to have to give my wife of ten years. What's your damn name again?"

"Alexander Hamilton. And there's a million-"

"Things you haven't done, right. Shut up, please?"  

Once they got inside, a kind-looking, strikingly pretty woman came to the door. "George! Good day, honey?"

"Not particularly," Washington grumbled, "Meet-"

"Alexander Hamilton, ma'am!" Alex grinned, "Pleased to meet my step-mom!"

"Wait... what?" she asked, chuckling a little.

"Martha, he's..." George sighed, rubbing over his face, "He's Rachel's son. I didn't know she had a kid... I didn't know he even existed until..." He waited with baited breath, but Martha opened her arms to Alex immediately.

"Any child of George's is a child of mine. Please, come and get warm!"

"Wow... okay," George muttered, hanging his jacket up, "It would be nice if we, you know... didn't show too much affection..."

"Nonsense," Martha frowned, "You must be hungry, darling. Dinner's almost ready."

"Father, I was checking over the finance for this year's report, and-" The young man who had just come down the stairs was tall, like George, and had neatly trimmed stubble that lined his full lips. His curly dark hair was pulled back to reveal a strong jawline- he looked a lot like his mother. "Ah... who is this?"

"This is Alexander, Gilbert. He's... uh," George coughed, "Your step-brother." The man stared at Alex for a second, then shrugged.

"Gilbert Lafayette Washington, but you can call me Laf," he smiled, offering a handshake, "Formidable to make your acquaintance."

"Is nobody in this household as disturbed as I am that I have a legitimate son from my last marriage?" Washington asked incredulously, and Laf and Martha looked at each other.

"That's just you, honey."

"Afraid not, mon pere."

"Jesus," Washington muttered, and Alex cleared his throat.

"I really appreciate you all giving me a place to stay. When Santa told me I have a dad in a far off, magical place called "New York City", I just couldn't resist going off on an adventure to find him."

"S-Santa...?" Martha asked slowly.

"Yup," George said from the kitchen, downing a glass of scotch.

The next day, Lafayette pulled Alex aside in the morning. "Coffee?" he asked, and Alexander nodded enthusiastically. Laf poured him some.

"Milk, sugar?"

"Lots of sugar, please."

Laf put two cubes in, and Alex put six more, looking around.

"Where are all your Christmas decorations?"

"Ah, father does not make merry of Christmas as much as we do. It is a pity, really."

"Maybe that's why he's on the naughty list," Alex gasped, covering his mouth.

"Excusez?"

"Dad's on the naughty list," Alex explained. Pursing his lips, Laf put a hand on Alex's shoulder.

"Mon ami, I do not know if you are serious about this Christmas facade... frankly, I do not care- whatever brings you happiness. But you must find some suitable clothing- you look like you just finished a shift at Macy's."

"Well, actually..." Alex began, but Laf grabbed some car keys.

"I do not need to be into work until ten o'clock this morning. We are getting you some clothes."

Alex just nodded, pulling a flask of maple syrup out of his sleeve and dumping it in his coffee.

Laf got him some nice clothes, paying for them all with his own money- Alex looked smart in a nice, presentable suit with a blue trenchcoat, much like Laf's own.

"There. Now you are ready-"

Suddenly, Alex felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Alexander! Dude, I didn't think I'd ever see your face again in here!"

Laf raised an eyebrow at the two. "Introductions, s'il vous plais?"

John looked up. "Oh... this your boyfriend?"

"Hm?" Alex asked, swooning in John's brown orbs.

"He's hot... yeah," John murmured, backing off a little.

"Hm, what?" Alex broke out of his trance, "No, no! No, this is Gilbert Lafayette Washington, my step-bro."

"Oh!" John laughed, "Oh, sorry." Lafayette smiled widely.

"You think I am hot, oui? Heh."

"Anyway, I just wanted to ask you..." John continued quickly, "Um... I didn't think I'd ever see you again, like I said, but... I told myself if I did I would..." he took a deep breath, shaking his head, "Do you wanna like, go out? Sometime soon?"

"Go out... where?" Alex asked, eyes wide.

"I don't know," John blushed, "For coffee?"

"Oh, is that that stuff I had this morning?" he asked Laf, who nodded. "Sure! It was pretty good."

"Great," John grinned, "Yeah. Well, um... see you tonight? At like... seven, in front of this place?"

"Okay," Alex replied softly. John nodded, and waved as he went off to get back to work as an elf. Lafayette slung an arm around Alex's neck.

"You are a _dog_ , Alexander! Swiped yourself a man, and you haven't even been in NYC for three days!" Suddenly, his laughing stopped, and the tall french man stared at the top of the escalator, where Hercules had paused to ream John for leaving the workshop.

"Who is that god amongst men?" Laf asked, star-struck.

"Nobody," Alex growled, "Let's go get ready for my date, I've got so much to learn."

Soon, it came to be evening, and Lafayette had prepared his step-brother for everything- he had given him the

"There are ten things you need to know," he had said, and had gone on to name them off, among them being, "Compliment his lips and prominent features," "Give him a reason to feel protective of you," and "Be sure the condom is the right size. There is no shame in admitting you are a large instead of extra large... or extra small, as the case may reveal," he seethed, recalling his last boyfriend. Alex bit his lip.

"What's a condom?"

Laf looked back at him. "A rubber jacket for your dick when you have sex, mon ami. Anyway, be on your way, be safe, have lots of fun." He winked, and Alex stuttered. He had changed into a loose sweatshirt with the words, 'King's College: Business Dpt.' emblazoned (courtesy of Laf's closet), and jeans.

John was waiting in front of Macy's, breath visible in the cold night air. He looked so handsome in that jacket, with a blue and beige scarf and his frizzy hair tied back messily.

"Hi!" Alex bounded over, wrapping Laurens in a tight hug. Not expecting this, John laughed a little, and hugged him back. There would certainly be no awkward physical barriers tonight.

Their evening was magical, truly. John showed Alexander everything there was to see in NYC, from the best to worst coffee, the biggest candy store in town (John had a feeling Alex would love that one), and even to a few history museums near the end.

"You know you have the same name as the guy who founded America's financial system?" John had smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Maybe I'm nerdy, but I just find that so cool."

Alex had nodded, smiling. Then he went for it.

"I think your lips look really nice right now... and I kind of want to do that thing where we both lean in and I stand on my tippie toes, then we kind of shift position so my head is sideways and your mouth is-" John silenced the babbling, carefully slotting their lips together and giving him the deepest, sweetest kiss Alex could ever have imagined in front of the Hamilton/Burr duel display.

"Wow," Alexander breathed when John finally pulled away, "Okay."

"Wanna go back to my place?" John asked, biting his lip.

"I hope that means the sex," Alexander grinned, and let a giggling Laurens lead him to the nearest bus stop.

\------

"You better be grateful I let you accompany me to work today," George growled under his breath, leading Alex to his office. Burr gave Alex an amiable, albeit confused, nod, which Alex returned.

"Today, we've got a very, very important man coming in- you will stay silent

Alex nodded, still in a blissful haze after the night before with John. He didn't know people could bend that way... and he certainly didn't know people could _feel_ that way.

"I'm glad we're understood."

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Why don't you have any Christmas decorations up in your office?" Alex asked. George sighed.

"Because Christmas is a ridiculous holiday." Alex gasped, and George put his hands up.

"I'm sure you disagree. After all, you are on a first name basis with Mr. Clause."

"Santa was the one who sent me here, remember?"

"Uh huh, that's right," George muttered. A little later, everyone got together in the conference room, sitting straight in their seats anxiously. Burr paged George, and George hit the button.

" _He's here_."

Alexander watched curiously from the back of the small room as the door opened, revealing a tall, very flashy man dressed in a god-awful purple suit.

"Afternoon, folks, let's make this snappy," he drawled in a southern accent, "You need my professional opinion on your new Christmas book, do you?"

"Yes sir," Washington nodded, "You see, we don't know if this draft is good enough. We know you're very... successful, to say the least, in the children's book industry, so we were hoping you would give us a few suggestions? We're in dire need of assistance, as the printing deadline's this Christmas Eve." Jefferson nodded, beckoning for the draft to be shown to him. He spent a tense two minutes flipping through the pages until-

He took a breath. "This is a complete and utter disgrace. It is... below criticism," he sputtered.

"I-I see," George replied, crossing his arms, "What changes would you make?"

"First of all, there are eight reindeer, not nine."

"Not true," Alexander suddenly spoke up from the back of the room. George looked over, eyes widening in panic.

"Excuse me?" Thomas laughed, raising an eyebrow at Alexander, "Who are you, the factual consultant?"

"He's nobody, really, now let's get back to-" George tried, but god help him, Alexander spoke up again.

"Rudolph is a thing, you know."

"No, he isn't," Thomas shot back, "He's a lie, a myth. The eight reindeer, that don't even exist, let me remind you, are only that- _eight_."

"You idiotic, self-important, sour bucket of rotten hot chocolate!" Alex gritted out, getting up to stand on the table, "You know nothing of the North Pole!"

"Rudolph doesn't exist!" Jefferson seethed, getting up on the table as well.

"Tell that to Rudolph's _family_ ," Alex hissed back, getting right up in Thomas' face.

"Hamilton, sit down!" George commanded, but Alex was far from done.

"You think you know so much? I'm _from_ the North Pole, you arrogant jerk!"

"Oh ho, you are, are you?" Thomas snickered.

"Yes!"

"Well, give Mr. C my regards when you see him," Thomas chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I'll be sure to tell him everything about you."

"Everything?" Jefferson mocked, continuing to laugh.

"Oh yeah, everything- and Santa'll leave you some coal, but I'll make sure he doesn't stop there. Maybe your wife, Martha, will find a nice little note on the fridge Christmas morning, detailing your torrid mornings with one Sally Hemings, your little 'personal assistant'!"

"Please stop talking, Alex," George whispered, as Jefferson's fists began to clench.  

"What does she assist you with, Mr. Jefferson, zipping your pants back up after you're done?"

 Thomas' eyes blew wide, and he tackled Alex off the table, tightening his fingers around the smaller man's neck.

"How do you know that, you little _shit_?!"

"I work... with Santa... I know... _everything_ ," Alex choked, prying at Jefferson's hands. George finally got in between them, pulling a furious Thomas off of Alexander.

"Mr. Jefferson, sir, I apologize greatly for my colleague's inappropriate behaviour!"

"Take your apology and shove it up your ass, Washington," Thomas spat, "You'll get no help from me, not after that!"

With that, he and the other guy he had come with left. George turned to Alex and glared. "Because of your big mouth, we could be in danger of losing this entire project. I don't care what that DNA test says, I'm not your father." He shook his head, turning away. "Go home, Alexander."

"D-dad, I'm-"

" _Go home_. And I don't mean my home... _your_ home." The words cut Alex deep, leaving him stumbling back. Burr watched him leave, giving him a small salute as he left. Alex walked the streets alone, staring up at the snow that began to fall. It was Christmas Eve the next day...

"Where did Alexander go?" Laf asked at the dinner table that night, "He did not return home with you."

"He's not coming back," George said firmly, and as Martha began to protest, he shut down the matter. "Ever." Lafayette stood up.

"What did you do?"

"I sent him home," George told him.

"You idiot!" Laf shouted at his father, "Could you not see that he does not have a home?! He said he lived in the god damn North Pole, mon dieu, did that not give you a hint?! He may have some things to work out, but he is your _son_. By doing this, you have robbed mother of a step-son... and me of a step-brother."

George picked up his plate, a sick feeling of guilt spreading in his stomach. "I'm going to eat in my room."

"George-"

" _Goodnight._ "

Laf sat back down, shaking his head. Martha placed a hand on his as Laf went on. "He was harmless, a good person. He even went on a date!"

"He'll come back," Martha assured, trying to convince herself more than anyone.

Meanwhile, Alex trekked back to the Lincoln tunnel, wondering if he should just go back to the North Pole indefinitely. He would never see John or Laf again, which made him sad to think of... but his own dad didn't want him anymore than he did when he was born. _He didn't know you existed_ , a voice in Alex's head told him, but it was silenced. George didn't want him as a son, that much was clear.

Alex fell asleep under the bridge, snow trapped in his hair and eyelashes.

\-----

"Alex?"

Alex's eyes blinked open, and he looked up to see-

"Santa!"

The bearded man clapped a hand over his mouth. He was wearing a large trench coat and sunglasses, to conceal his identity. "Alex, what are you doing in the Lincoln tunnel? Did you find your father?!" Suddenly, the events of the previous day flooded back to Alexander, and he heaved a heavy sigh.

"Yeah."

"And? Why aren't you there with him, working to get him off the naughty list?!"

"It didn't work. He hates me."

"Oh, Hamilton... how could anyone hate you?"

Alex smiled a little. "Thanks, Mr. Clause... but I blew it for my dad, and now he may lose something big at work because of me."

"Are you talking about the Thomas Jefferson incident?"

"Were you really watching in your magical snow globe?"

"I was... guy had it coming. Anyhow, I need you to get it together, my boy." 

"There's no point. Why should I even try?"

"Because..." Santa looked around, whispering in Alex's ear conspiratorially, "The pole is on yellow alert, Alex. My sleigh can't get off the ground without a lot more Christmas spirit."

"Sir!" Alexander yelped, jumping up.

"I know, I know," Santa sighed, "Don't panic. You can fix this- if you can get Washington to believe in Christmas again, it should be enough to get us off the ground! Alex, I trust you... I always knew that greatness lies in you." Alex set his lips in a firm line.

"Anything for you, sir- anything for Christmas!"

\-----

Washington frowned, rousing out of bed. "Who the hell is buzzing us at six in the morning on Christmas Eve?" He got up, and stopped short as he saw Lafayette standing, arms crossed, beside-

"Alexander," George murmured, "You came back?"

"Of course," Alex replied. Lafayette stepped in.

"He needs our help."

Gathering everyone he knew (including the Macy's staff, who all hated him save John), Alex planned an event that night, for Christmas Eve.

"Should we really indulge this fantasy?" George had asked Martha, and she had given him a withering look in response that basically screamed support _your son or die, darling_. Lafayette had happily helped his step-brother gather people around in central park, and soon, it had become a crowd covered by local news.

"--Largest group of carollers Central Park has ever seen," the reporter spoke for the camera, "This could brighten anyone's Christmas Eve- know it's brightening mine."

Meanwhile, Alexander was trying to get people to start singing. "Please!" he tried, "Santa can't make it to your homes if we don't!" People continued to laugh at him, until John realized what he had to do- he could only hope a record producer was among this crowd, at least.

"Yo, yo, yo!" the freckled man began weakly, getting on top of a bench. Some people looked over, and John swallowed. He had only ever performed at small venues... and in the shower, for Alexander. He cleared his throat.

"Yo, I'm John Laurens in the place to be," he croaked, his voice cracking, as more people began to turn, "We're singing for the big man, believe what we don't see." He swallowed again, his throat drying out. "This whole thing's really stupid and I'll probably get fired, but Alexander needs our help, and we cannot get tired." He coughed a little as people awkwardly didn't catch on, all staring at him strangely. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Then Martha began to beatbox, joined soon by Laf and Alex on the wooden bench. Watching them, John began to gain confidence, and went on with a slight smile. "I didn't think I'd ever have this much holiday spirit, but now imma sing it out so that all of you can hear it. A week ago I met this dude who thought he was an elf, and yeah, my boyfriend's crazy but his cheer is top shelf!" He raised a fist, and began to sing loudly. "You better watch out, you better not cry, you  better not cry-"

"You better not pout, I'm telling you why," everyone began to gradually join in, "Santa Clause is coming to town!"

They finished the song, and Washington nearly fainted as he saw the flash of something red across the night sky. Alex dipped John into a kiss atop the bench, sending everyone into cheers and the cheer skyrocketing enough to power the sleigh.

"I'm sorry... son," Washington finally said, bowing his head, "You may be a pain in my ass, the most annoying person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, and you may have dashed my very hopes of publishing a half-decent children's book... but I can't deny that you have her eyes, and this is what she would've wanted."

Alex teared up a little, and John squeezed his hand, giving him a moment with his family. The half-elf, half-man smiled, laughing as he hugged his dad.

"Hey," he said softly, "I know someone who can help with the book... I heard he's great at rhyming." He jerked his head over to John, who gave a lopsided smile and a wave. "And one more thing?" Alex added with a smile as snow began to fall, "Don't call me son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!


	24. Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jingle All The Way au- Alexander tries his damndest to get Philip the Turbo Man doll he's always wanted... but in his quest for the virtually sold out toy, he discovers a fellow dad who is just as psychotically determined to nab the last one. 
> 
> OR
> 
> Alex vs. Burr in a battle more deadly than their duel

Philip had been asking for the hot new Turbo Man doll for ages- and Alexander being Alexander, couldn't refuse his son anything.

"I'm sure he'd love a Super Suzie doll, or a model hot wheels." 

"I'm sure he would," Alex replied with a sigh, "But I want to be that dad, y'know?" 

"Which dad is that?" Eliza asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The dad who scores his kid a Turbo Man."

This exchange, married with Alexander's sheer tenacity and power of will landed him on the craziest department store battleground he had ever found himself in the middle of.

"Turbo Man!" Alex yelled over the roar of last-minute shoppers, "Do you have any of those left?!" The employee opposite him actually laughed.

"What the hell do you think, buddy? Those are harder to come by than god damn Hamilton tickets!"

Alexander sighed in frustration.

"When did the last one sell out?"

"This morning- a lady came in and picked it up by order."

Alex looked around. Maybe someone dropped one in another department earlier, or something, in a mad rush... or maybe someone was willing to give theirs up. He had already searched every website with same-day shipping available, and none of them had had any stock left. This doll really was hot right now.

Alexander supposed he should blame himself for leaving this to the very last minute- Christmas Eve- but he would stop at nothing. He was on this mission now, and he wasn't about to get off.

"Do you know where I can find one?!" he shouted back, and the lady looked up boredly.

"Sure- ask Santa Clause," she said mockingly, and rolled her eyes. Alex frowned, and probably would have asked for a manager if he didn't have so little time to accomplish this seemingly impossible feat.

"Merry Christmas, then," he grumbled, and parted the crowds of frantic parents. That's when he saw it- the last Turbo Man doll, abandoned in the Barbie aisle... and the other dad that noticed it at precisely the same moment. They locked eyes, and the other guy's eyes narrowed.

"No," Alexander murmured under his breath, "Not this day."

 At the exact same time, both men bolted for the shelf, nearly knocking down everyone in the process. They almost made it, before an old woman came between them, picking it up off the shelf.

"E-Excuse me," she told a sales representative, "I think this is in the wrong section."

"Oh! Thanks a bunch, ma'am. I'll return it to the correct spot right away," the chipper young man smiled at her.

"No," Alex whispered.

"No," the other guy groaned, and they both watched at the poor teenage employer was nearly tackled in an attempt to obtain the last one by every single parent there. Alexander clenched his jaw, and shot a withering glare over at the other man, who returned it with venom.

This was no longer a game... this was a duel to the death for Turbo Man.

Alex jumped in his car, flooring it to the next nearest department store. He could see his rival gaining on him, following his path to the coveted toy. Upon arriving, he found the exact same situation... no Turbo Man, and a crazy mob of overzealous adults.

Then, an idea struck him. He would track down the warehouse that distributed them!

A few paces away, Hamilton's rival, another dad named Aaron Burr, approached an frazzled-looking employee.

"Excuse me?" he asked, keeping his eyes on Alex, "Do you have any-"

"Turbo Men?" the employee muttered, "Nope. Sold out hours ago." Burr deflated.

"My daughter's been asking for one forever, I don't want to let her down. You know where could I find one?"

"At this time?" the guy laughed, and thought about it. "Probably a _warehouse_." Burr's eyes widened. That was it! A factory!

Aaron bolted out to his car, only to find Alexander in his already. Where was he going? Had he found one already? Searching up where the nearest toy stock warehouse was as quickly as he could, Burr was soon on his way... with Alex in toe.

Getting to the factory as quickly as possible, they got out.

Alexander rushed for the door, and they both got in at the same time- to find the warehouse abandoned.

"Hey!"

Well, not quite abandoned. They turned to find a mob of Santa's, some short, some tall, some fat, some tiny, some half-naked, some in dresses- they went on and on.

"Holy-"

"Shit," Burr finished, swallowing.

"What're you doin' here?"

"I- I was hoping to find a... Turbo Man doll?" Burr asked, and Alexander pushed in front of him.

"No, no, I was here first! Where are the Turbo Men?!"

"You want a Turbo Man, do you?" one Santa, who seemed to be the ringleader asked, "To bring home to your little munchkin?" Then he pulled out a gun, and a little bag of white powder. "You willin' to pay for it, shorty?"

Burr's eyes widened, and Alexander swallowed. "Uhhh... uhm, I have... I have exactly $413 on me right now, um, I'm cool without the coke, really, you can just... take the cash..." Burr began to back away slowly, but Santas blocked the door.

"Oh, we don't want your cash," the head Santa chuckled, "We want to make sure you ain't gonna rat out the little trading post we've established in here. Plastic?"

"P-plastic?" Alex squeaked, voice cracking.

"We accept Visa and Mastercard," the man grinned, revealing a gold tooth. While they were preoccupied, Aaron noticed a stash of Turbo Men at the back, and slipped one inside his coat. Suddenly, they all heard sirens outside, and Burr tried to make a run for it. He was held back by three giant Santas, and the whole place descended into anarchy.

"Everybody, hands up!"

Alexander panicked, whereas Burr stayed calm and silent... which is what ultimately led to what came next.

"I would like to personally commend you for leading us to this drug ring we've been trying to bust for years, sir!" the chief smiled, shaking Aaron's hand. Aaron simply smiled back, nodded, and left Alexander to be cuffed and taken in.

Then, as he drove away with the Turbo Man, he found himself slowing down.

"Dammit," he murmured, and looked down at the grinning super soldier. "Sorry, Theo," he muttered, and changed course.

A little while later, in jail, Alexander paced in his holding cell, frantically trying to bribe the guard. "It's Christmas Eve! You don't understand, this was all a mistake! I was just trying to get a Turbo Man doll for my son, and oh, my son, they'll be expecting me home by now!"

"You should've thought twice about that before striking up a deal with a drug lord," the guard retorted, crossing his arms.

"He was threatening me!"

"You offered him cash, you were a willing participant."

"You see, this is the problem with the legal system," Alexander began to rant, standing up on his bench, "You only ever look at one side of the story, and that side best serves whoever-" Twenty minutes later, Alex was half-way through proposing a new municipal law when the chief came in.

"You've made bail."

Alex stopped, frowning. "Who was it? My wife?" He suddenly shuddered, curling in on himself a little. "M-my sister in law?"

"Said he was your enemy. I really don't understand people," the man shook his head, and in walked...

"You?" Alexander murmured, scowling.

"You," Burr nodded, and lead him outside. "I felt partially responsible for this."

"Partially?!  You're the prick that got me thrown in jail!"

"I'm also the prick that got you out of jail, now listen. We both want this Turbo Man very much, yes?"

"Yes..."

"Then I say we put our differences aside, and come up with some fair, ethical way to settle this, and compete for the one I have-" He looked over to his car to take out the doll, and discovered a smashed windshield... with no doll.

"Serves you right," Alex muttered.

"Do you want to spend Christmas in jail?!" Burr shouted back, aggravated beyond words by this point, and Alexander groaned loudly, collapsing.

"Anything would be better than this. Philip's going to be so disappointed!"

"So is Theodosia," Burr sighed, and looked over in defeat. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Alex mirrored his enemy's sigh of resignation, and shrugged. "That would be nice."

They got to a bar, where they both sat with a beer of their choice.

"Philip's been asking for one of these Turbo Man dolls for the entire year now," Alexander huffed a laugh, "All day, I just kept imagining his face when he opens it and knows that his dad didn't let him down... not this time." He teared up a little, and Burr took a sip of his beer.

"Theo's been bothering me about it every day. I couldn't find one around her birthday- tough suckers to find- so I figured I'd hunt one down, find it for at least resale. Couldn't. Too busy to get out for one before tonight..." He wiped at his eyes. "She's my pride and joy, y'know? I wanna be the best dad ever in her eyes."

"Kids, huh?" Alex sighed, "You'll bleed and fight for them."

"You wanna give 'em the world," Burr nodded, shaking his head.

"To Turbo Man," Alex toasted, "Our lack thereof, and a Merry Christmas."

"I'll drink to that," Burr chuckled, and they clinked glasses.

Just then, Alex spotted a dumpster out back through the little window... and what should be perched there on top?

" _No_ ," Burr murmured, following his line of sight. Alex turned back, eyes narrowing.

"Yes." Burr's eyes narrowed even smaller, and the two nearly spilled their beers in a rush to get that doll before the other. The bartender called after them for money, but the two men didn't hear... they were too busy grabbing at the junk pile.

"It's... Philip's!" Alex growled, tearing at Burr's jacket.

"It belongs to Theodosia!" Burr bit back, tugging Alex's hair out of its ponytail and yanking.

"Ahhh!!"

"Aghghghgh!!!"

"Let... go...!"

"You... first...!"

"Never! FREEDOM OR DEATH!" Alex screeched, and bit Burr in the arm. Burr then proceeded to punch Alex in the ribs then in the face, grabbing the doll. Alex stuck his leg out and tripped him,  sending the doll flying from Burr's hands... right into the street, under the wheel of a passing truck, snapping the plastic toy into a hundred pieces.

Alex stood up, using the dumpster for support in his half-conscious, speechless state. Aaron felt his lower lip tremble. Reluctantly, they entered the bar again, Alex bleeding from his lower lip and Aaron with a forming black eye. Evidently, the barkeep had probably seen this sort of thing on a regular basis, so he didn't say much when they paid and left.

"Merry Christmas," Alex mumbled in a zombified state, his fat lip almost preventing proper speech.

"Happy Holidays," Burr waved back dazedly, one eye too puffy to open now. They got into their respective cars, starting the motor, and headed off in separate directions.

Alex got home in time for dinner, and Eliza fussed over his wounds and battle scars. Philip bounced up and down, shaking every gift under the tree in hopes one would be his precious toy.

 _I tried_ , Alex thought dejectedly, turning away, _I really did._ Somewhere on the other side of town, Burr let his wife, Theodosia Sr., apply rubbing alcohol and ozonol to his cuts and bruises.

 _I really tried,_ he thought, _I did my best, baby girl._

The next morning, Angelica and Peggy arrived with gifts. Philip was crazed- asking over and over if his toy was under there. They got to the very last one, and his hopes were almost dashed... until he opened Angelica's gift.

"Oh, boy!" Philip cried, jumping up and hugging Angelica's leg, "It's a Turbo Man!"

Alexander's right eye twitched, his lip quivering ever so slightly. His pinky spasmed a little, and his legs nearly gave out as he stood. "H-how... how... how, pray tell, did this come about that you acquired one of these little motherfuckers?"

"Alex!" Eliza admonished, but Alexander held back a sob. Angelica quirked an eyebrow.

"I had one on order in the store for me. Picked it up yesterday morning."

Alex opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Daddy, daddy! Can I invite my new friend over to play with my Turbo Man?!" Philip asked, squeezing the doll tight to him.

"S-Sure, Philip... you do that, son..." Alexander whispered, sitting back down. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door, which Eliza answered.

"Theo!" Philip cried, "Keep your jacket on, let's go play Turbo Man in the backyard!"

"You got one?!" the little girl moaned, " _Lucky_!"

Aaron Burr stood at Alexander Hamilton's door, staring in. Their wives frowned, wondering what was going as the two men came face to face.

"Aaron," Theodosia Sr. began slowly, "This is Alexander, Eliza's husband. They're the lovely parents of Theo's new little friend." She leaned in. "I think Theo and Pip play so well together... and they're so _cute_."

"With any luck, they'll get married one day," Eliza giggled with Theodosia, "Then we can spend every Christmas together!"

Burr fainted, as Alex kissed his cross necklace in desperate prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh Burr deserved the damn doll so much more. If you haven't seen the movie Jingle All The Way with Arnold Schwarzenegger, you haven't lived properly. 
> 
> The last chapter will come tomorrow. It's a really fun, romantic one- I've been saving the best for last, so get hyped! 
> 
> (I hope you had a great holiday, tell me what you got in the comments if you want!)


	25. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love Actually au- ft. Hamliza, Hamria and Lams, Philodosia, TheoBurr, Mullette, Kingbury, Jeffmads and non-binary Laf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years!
> 
> <3

If you ever lose faith in the world, just take a look at the arrivals gate at the airport. People nowadays try to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but that's not always the case... it seems that love is everywhere. Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends, new friends. When the revolutionary war came about in history, none of the messages the soldiers sent from Valley Forge were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love.

If you look for it, you'll find that love, actually, is all around.

** Three Weeks To Christmas **

To say Aaron coveted what Marcus had was an understatement- though the honourably discharged lt. colonel turned jeweller had been a friend of his for a considerable time, Aaron always found himself comparing his own life to Mark's... in almost every aspect.

"Do you, Marcus Prevost, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the man asked, and the British groom smiled, nodding.

"I do."

"And do you, Theodosia Bartow, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Aaron knew what he had done was wrong. Sleeping with Theodosia ten years ago knowing full well how his friend felt about her at the time... right after expressing his intentions to ask her out... After everything, it had resulted in a baby girl. Theodosia had devised with Aaron to tell Mark that Theo Jr. was from a past relationship, not letting him in on just who that had been with.

Regardless, Aaron had assured Theo in a quick text sent back then that it was only sex for him that one time. It had nothing to do with feelings. So why did it crush him so much to hear-

"I do," Theodosia smiled up at her new husband, and Aaron suddenly felt sick. _Merry Christmas to me and my sad, hopeless existence,_ he thought miserably, then gave the couple a thumbs up as he held up a video camera.

❅❅❅

George King tapped his pinky finger along to the beat as it lead him in to the hook of the song he was currently recording.

_"And when push, comes to shove- I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love, da da da dat da, da-"_

"Sir, sir!" his manager, Samuel Seabury, held up his hands, "I'm afraid you did it again."

"What?"

"You did the original version. The _non_ -Christmas version."

"Ah," George muttered, "So it would seem. Yes, let's try this again." The pop star cleared his throat. " _And when push, comes to shove... I will send a fully armed batta-_ "

"No, nope," Samuel winced, and shook his head. "Again, sorry."

George huffed a sigh. This whole holiday re-working of his old hit breakup song "You'll Be Back" was obnoxious and petty... everything that George, evidently, embodied.

"Okay, alright." He cleared his throat. "And when push, comes to shove- I will send a bundled box of chocolates and a jolly Christmas card! Da da da dat da, dat da da da daya da, da da da da daya da!"

Samuel clapped giddily, giving him a thumbs up. "Wonderful, George, just brilliant!"

George smirked. "I know."

❅❅❅

The stretch limo pulled up to the white house, cameras flashing everywhere as the new president's car door was opened. Buttoning up his grey and plum-coloured tux, out stepped Thomas Jefferson, newly dubbed 43rd President Jefferson, waving and blowing kisses to the crowds.

"They love me," he grinned to his handler, who was a short balding man named John Adams.

"That's because they don't know you yet," Adams retorted, and lead him inside. "This will be your staff here in the House for the next four years- get to know them well, they are paid to do whatever you ask them."

"Whatever you ask?" Thomas asked, eyeing a pretty brunette up and down flirtatiously. John cleared his throat.

"Sir... this is Miss Hemings, your secretary."

"Pleasure, doll," Thomas winked, and Sally suppressed a scowl.

"Martha Wayles, your housekeeper."

"An honour," Thomas embellished, kissing her hand. Martha managed a giggle.

"John Church Hamilton, your butler." Jefferson shuddered.

"I knew a Hamilton once in high school... hated him, he was an asshole. But you look great, though!" Adams sighed, and they went on down the line until they reached the end, where a shorter but rather muscular man stood with one hand behind his back.

"And this is Mr. Madison, your head of catering."

"Pleased to serve you, sir."

"Mmm, the pleasure's all mine, sugar," Thomas chuckled, a little awestruck. "Now how did a little guy like you get so lucky to score a spot in my presidential squad, hm?"

"I'd say you're the lucky one to have me behind you," James replied coolly, not skipping a beat.

Thomas was caught off guard by the witty answer... beaten at his own game, he liked that. His eyes lingered on Madison's attractive frame, leaning in as he passed to whisper:

"If you play your cards right, _I_ just might get behind _you_ by the time I'm re-elected," he hissed cockily, grinning. This time, Madison had no snappy retort... only a hidden blush.

Thomas liked a challenge, but he always got the last laugh.  

Always.

❅❅❅

"Okay, we've got exactly six hundred seventy two hours and thirty nine minutes to get this show on the road," Alexander called out through the office, standing up on a Lee's swivel chair, and Burr looked up.

"Thirty eight," he corrected, and Alex nodded, wagging his finger.

"Even closer- now people, if we're going to make this happen, we need to find a venue!"

"Where are we gonna book one this close to Christmas?" John, Alex's marketing consultant, asked. Alex looked over at him.

"I think I could make a few calls," a woman said, and turned around in her chair to face Alex, who swallowed thickly before putting his boss-voice back on.

"Oh, would you, Maria? I appreciate it- I'd do it, but I'm already taking care of all the-"

"Shhh, hey," the seductive voice of his employee washed over Alex like a hot tidal wave, "You've been working non-stop for the past few days... you need to take a break."

"That's what my wife keeps telling me," the boss of the company sighed.

"Forget about your wife for a minute..." Maria whispered with a pout, "Aren't I enough?" Alex quickly turned away, choosing to look over these blatant advances as he always did.

"Right, you get on those calls, then- Mr. Burr! Can I see you in my office, please?!" Purposefully ignoring Miss Lewis as he jogged into his private office with Aaron, he closed the door and sat on his desk. "What's up?"

"What?" Aaron asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"You're acting all despondent... what's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, Alex," Burr muttered. He wasn't about to pour his heart out to his boss in the middle of an already crappy Monday, and besides- "You never care this much, you're distracting yourself from your own inner turmoil."

"Excuse me?! I... you think I don't care?!"

"It's true."

"Whatever," Alex huffed, making _pshhh_ noises and waving it off, "I'm... not... ha! I was worried about..." He frowned. "Go get back to work, Burr." Aaron just smirked at him, and left the office.

Alexander checked his texts, and found a picture Eliza had sent him. It was a picture of her in front of cookies fresh out of the oven, obviously taken by Angelica, one of his children's little arms in the frame as he tried to steal one off the pan. Alex felt a smile start to grow, but despite the warmth his family brought him, he still found himself drawn to the dark, sultry eyes he knew were staring at him through the glass walls of his office.

❅❅❅

Hercules wasn't one to rush into love... but when love came along, he wasn't one to close his doors. He had been with Elizabeth for over a year now, his Elizabeth, his gorgeous, wonderful, amazing Lizzie, and every day, waking up next to her with her hair sprawled around her like a halo was a miracle in itself.

"Morning," he whispered to her. He was spooning her, holding her smaller body in his muscular arms. She roused a little, mumbling, then opened one eye.

"'M sick."

"You're sick?" Herc cooed in her ear, "Aw, baby... that sucks. We were supposed to go out today!"

"I know, but... I've got a stuffy nose," Liz replied, rolling over with a pout, "I feel like 100%, free range shit."

"Would this make it better?" Herc grinned with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and began placing kisses all over her face. She pushed him away with a tired smile.

"You're going to catch my cold. Go get me some meds, dumbass, I'll be here waiting when you're back."

"The lines are going to be crazy today in the pharmacy," Herc groaned, "All I want to do is stay here and snuggle you."

"I'll be up to it once I get better," she told him, and nudged him one last time to get going.

"I love you!" he called as he threw on his scarf and ran out the door. He was sure she called back to him- he just closed the door too soon.

The tailor spent the entire day thinking about her- how it would be once Liz got pregnant, if she wanted to or ever did, and how much fun they would have raising kids together. Hercules had even bought that vacation home in France the year before, so that when they did have a family or when they wanted an adult weekend together, they could have it out in a cute little french cottage on a lake. 

When he got home, he was surprised to run into his brother, rifling through the fridge.

"Hugh?" Hercules grinned, "What're you doing here?" His older brother hit his head on the top of the fridge in surprise, and looked up nervously.

"Herc! Hi... didn't think y-you would be home just yet!"

"And why did you decide to grace me and the missus with your presence, bro? Caught the Christmas bug?" Hercules teased, grabbing some milk from the open fridge door. Hugh opened his mouth, but someone else, a much higher, more feminine voice, spoke out from down the hall.

 _"Hurry up, big boy! I'm naked and want you at least twice before Herc gets home!"_ Hercules let the milk glass fall to the floor, his whole world shattering to pieces with it. Off to the vacation home it was, then.

The Christmas season sucked.

❅❅❅

Eliza giggled, watching her sister send the picture off to Alex. Angie stuffed two cookies in his mouth, munching on them until crumbs fell all over her bright green Christmas sweater.

"Get a napkin if you're gonna steal all those cookies, babe," her mother told her, and Angelica smiled.

"I'm so glad I could make it out here from London for the holidays."

"I know! It's too bad Adrienne got stuck with a shift on Christmas," Eliza fretted, and Angelica smiled, thinking of her wife.

"Such is the life of an airline attendant. A very pretty, _in demand_ airline attendant."

"Yeah... well, she's gotta come for Easter, at least, I'm sure she can get that time off. Oh, I'm just so happy you're here! I don't know what I would do if I couldn't see you!" Eliza smiled, "I mean... I guess it's also good to have you around after..."

"I know," Angelica nodded, the mood sobering a little, "It's been a month, and I still can't believe she's gone."

"Philip's taking it the hardest," Eliza sighed, staring wistfully down the hall at a closed door, "He hasn't come out of his room very much at all since news of his Aunt Peggy's accident, and... I just don't want to think about what he could be getting up to in there!"

"He's only nine," Angelica pointed out.

"But his mind is older," Eliza scoffed, "You should see the stuff he writes for school- he's a little poet."

"I don't doubt it," Angelica put a comforting arm around your sister, "If it'd make you feel better, I'll pay him a visit."

"God, Ang, thanks... sometimes it can only be an auntie thing, y'know?"

Angelica nodded, patting Eliza and standing to approach Philip's door. "Pip? 'S me."

 Silence.

"You can't hide forever- I'm coming in." Closing the door behind her, she found Philip sitting on his bed, covers pulled up close. "Pip, your mom's really worried about you." Still, silence. Angelica sat carefully on the edge of the nine-year-old's bed, cautious to give him his space. "I know it must be very hard for you right now. It's hard for all of us- we all loved her very dearly. But... there comes a time when we have to move on, or _we_ won't be able to live our lives anymore." Angelica sighed. "Philip?"

Philip looked up, and blinked. "Can I tell you what's been bothering me, Aunt Angelica?" he asked, in a very frank voice.

"Of course," Angelica frowned, reaching out hand. Philip took it, and looked down dejectedly.

"I know I should still be pretty broken up about Aunt Peggy... and I am! Really, I miss her. But... I get what you're saying, and... see, truth is..." he looked back up again with a shrug, "I'm in love."

Angelica stared for a second, then began to cough to mask her laughter. "Love? You're... in love?" Philip simply nodded.

"Yes."

"Uhh..." Angelica couldn't help but let a chuckle out, "I could be mistaken, but aren't you a tad young still to be in love?" Philip frowned at her as if she had just said the strangest thing in the world.

"No?" the boy replied matter of factly, and Angelica immediately dropped her smile.

"Oh. Oh, of course, right- sorry." She patted the seat on the bed next to her, which Philip eventually crawled into. "Well then, details are in order. What's their name?"

"Her name's Theodosia, and she's the most beautiful creature to ever have walked this earth."

Angelica's eyebrows shot up. "Wow... she must be something."

"She is, Aunt Ang," Philip murmured, placing his head in his hands, "She's the moon of my life, the prettiest girl in school, and everyone knows it!"

"And does she even know who you are?"

"Of course! I'm her best _friend_."

The eldest Schuyler sister grimaced. "So what you're saying is... you're fucked," she nudged him. Philip exhaled, swinging his short legs over the bedside.

"Basically."

** Two Weeks To Christmas **

Aaron sat in his flat, nursing a beer. He could have made himself some eggnog, or even gone to Starbucks for a peppermint mocha, but he wasn't in the mindset to get that festive yet.

Theodosia had called him that morning. She had asked him if she could come over, in that carefully calculated tone of hers, for the wedding tapes. Aaron had quickly told her he had lost them, that they didn't turn out right so he probably threw them out. She had insisted.

"Be nice," Marcus said over the phone.

"What're you talking about? I'm always nice," Aaron protested, fiddling with a fray in a pillow.

"You're cold," Mark replied, "By nature, but extra cold around my wife." Aaron winced at the title, and bit the inside of his cheek.

"We just... haven't gotten around to properly acquainting," Aaron lied through his teeth.

"Well... try your best, A-a-ron," Mark muttered with a smile, "I'm sure you can manage being nice to a pretty girl- you've managed since college, you dog."

Aaron offered a weak laugh, and promised Mark he would welcome "his wife" when she came for the tapes. So now, there he sat, waiting for the visit... and the doorbell rang. When he opened the door, she stood there, beautiful as ever, and it actually took Aaron's breath away.

"H-Hello," he murmured, and let her in. She smiled a little.

"Hey, Aaron. Got the tapes?" _Why did she have to say his name like that?_

"I... they're... like I said, I probably got rid of 'em, and..."

"Oh? These look pretty promising," Theo said, pulling out a tape that read "Theo and Mark's Wedding." Aaron winced.

"Oh! Oh, how did you... wow, I've been looking for that..." He scratched the back of his neck, watching apprehensively as she loaded it into his TV. "Wait, Theo, don't-"

"Oh," she smiled, studying the shots Aaron had got. The camera travelled up her dress and to her face, grinning as Mark took her arm. "Oh damn, I look good! Aaron, you're a genius! I haven't been able to find a good shot of me that doesn't make me look blue or pixilated!" She got up and hugged him, and Aaron sucked in a breath, waiting for her next reaction. She sat back down in front of the screen, watching the shots unfold... and her smile slowly began to fade as they went on.

"They're all of me," she whispered. She saw another shot of her dress, then of her, waving and smiling. Marcus was barely in it at all. Theodosia turned around, a long period of silence befalling them. "You..." she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "You told me it didn't mean anything."

"I..." Aaron tried, and shook his head, walking across the room to the front door. After a moment he took to compose himself, he turned back. "I was willing to wait for it, Theo." He exhaled through his nose, searching for words. "You can, um... show yourself out, can't you?"

He left, zipping up his jacket. He had promised himself she would never know, but how could he have stopped that? She looked beautiful... so beautiful, and she was gorgeous, and happy, and _married_ -

Aaron punched a nearby stone wall, attracting looks from passers-by. How could he face her, or his best friend, again?

❅❅❅

"And we're on in 3...2..." The man pointed at the host, and he began talking.

"Welcome to the Daily Rochambeau, Mr. King- your new hit song, 'You'll Be Merry", is climbing up the charts at number four already! Can you tell us what it was like cranking out another hit like it's nothing?!" A microphone was held up under George, and the singer smiled sweetly at the camera.

"Oh, I didn't 'crank it out', as you put it. I took a once-great song of mine, and polluted it with preposterous, absurdly cheerful Christmas lyrics." From behind the camera, Samuel jumped up and down, waving his arms frantically at George and making the neck slicing, cease and desist motion.

"Well... what's the intended message of your new song?" the host asked, a little cautiously this time. George continued to smile his darling, menacing grin.

"The message, Henry, has been lost, just as the message of my original song of torturous revenge has been in this poor, horror of a rendition." From behind the camera, Samuel began pulling at his short hair wildly, trying to stop the singer. 

"But fans are going crazy over this song!" Henry reminded him with an optimistic smile, "Your song is the most played on Itunes!"

"I pity the peasants who have wasted precious time on this heinous massacre of a musical masterpiece. This is what selling out looks like, children."

"Huh..." the host murmured, "You know, you're the first to give an honest answer on here. It's a little refreshing."

"Oh, I'm nothing if not honest," George replied, raising his eyebrows, "Gold is really not your colour." Henry pursed his lips.

"Okay... since honesty seems to be a theme here- out of everyone you've slept with, best you've ever had?"

"Jonathan Groff," George said as fast as lightning, and the host raised his eyebrows.

"Really?"

"Heavens, no," George winked, "He was rubbish."

" _AND_ that's all the time we have today for our segment on holiday hits!" Henry gave the cameraman a desperate look, so they were panned off of. Samuel was backstage, banging his head against the wall and sobbing.

"What's wrong?" George asked him, rolling his eyes.

"You," Samuel snapped, "You are wrong, everything about you and what you say is wrong."

"What are you talking about, Seabury?" George huffed, crossing his arms, "I was being honest, this holiday album was not my idea-"

" _No_ , it was mine, to get your career going again! Can you blame me for-"

"For trying to-"

"I'm just-"

"I wanted you to-!"

Suddenly, Samuel thrust himself forward into George for a kiss, the taller man moaning into his manager's mouth. After a second, they parted, staring at each other with wide eyes.

"S-sorry, sir. That didn't happen."

"No it didn't."

But it did... and now, they would focus only on the billboard hot 100.

❅❅❅

President Jefferson kicked his feet up on the desk in the oval office, signing some papers in his lap. The workload had begun to pile up, but it was manageable; Thomas worked swimmingly under pressure.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Thomas barely lifted his head. "Mm?"

"May I come in, sir?"

At this, Thomas did look up, a few nerves lighting inside of him. "Enter," he replied obnoxiously, covering his own excitement with his defense mechanism of egotism, and the man who came in raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you might like some biscuits with chocolate while you worked." Thomas beamed his wide, blinding grin.

"What a doll you are. 'Preciate it."

"Anytime, sir." As Madison was pouring some coffee to accompany the biscuits, he noticed the script of the next page on Thomas' desk.

"That bill is absolutely ridiculous and drains the resources we need to better distribute. I must say, I'm relieved your administration is scrapping it," James said, nodding. Thomas gazed at him curiously.

"Why are you my caterer?"

James seemed startled by this question. "Pardon?"

"What I mean to say, is..." Thomas corrected, taking his feet off the desk and leaning forward, "How do you get off saying something like that while pouring me coffee?"

"I'm sorry sir," James frowned, looking a little confused, "I'll keep my thoughts to myself next ti-"

"No, dammit, that's not what I mean," Thomas growled, "You're too smart for your job! You strike me as brighter and more willing to put it plainly than most of my damn advisors, and you're serving me biscuits."

"I love my job, sir," James shrugged, "I may indulge in political passions off the clock, but serving you makes me glad to work here." He smirked a little at this, and Thomas wondered just what he had meant by that.

"Uh huh..." the politician murmured, watching James' eyes descend. "Where are you from?" he finally asked, "I feel that if you're going to gimme sugar every day, I should at least get to know you first." He winked, and James coughed primly. 

"Well, much like yourself, I'm from Virginia. Grew up in a rich family, went to a good school, got a good education. Nothing particularly notable."

"That's respectable," Thomas nodded, fiddling with a pen. James watched the pen roll around between the President's long, slender fingers, trailing it idly up and down his thigh... he snapped his gaze back up as Thomas resumed his reply. "A fellow Virginian, though... I like that. We need more people with good, Virginian values in this place."

"I agree strongly, sir."

Thomas hummed. "You really should be on the other side of this desk." James chuckled.  

"Like I said... I enjoy working for you."

"Fine, then," Thomas shrugged, nibbling on the corner of a biscuit, "I prefer _dark_ chocolate, honey bun. Remember that for next time, won't you?"

James' smile grew mysteriously as he placed his arm behind his back again. "Duly noted, sir."

Thomas watched Madison turn to go, the door clicking shut after him, and groaned, holding his head in his hands.

"This is bad... _I'm_ bad... shit," he muttered, "I want to fuck my caterer. Over this desk. In the White House. Which, technically, belongs to me for the next four years." He looked up at the portraits of the presidents lining the walls, narrowing his eyes. "I bet you dealt with these types of things all the time," he grumbled to the portrait of Washington, "'Course you did, you saucy general, you."

❅❅❅

"Yo, I knew we could do it!" John's voice rang out through the venue, soft seasonal jazz playing as people danced and drank. "This staff party is lit."

Alex broke out into giggles, elbowing him as John draped himself over his boss.

"Too bad Herc couldn't come," the freckled man continued, "He's off in fancy _France_!" Alexander couldn't help but eye Laurens, and how he looked tonight... his boyfriend, whoever that was, was a lucky bastard. Eliza kissed Alex on the cheek. "It certainly did turn out nicely. I'm so glad my sister could babysit for us tonight..." Alex grinned, nodding.

"When was the last time we had a night like this together?"

"Probably our honeymoon," Eliza snorted, and rubbed his shoulders. "I'm going to find the punch."

"Bring me some, yeah?" Alexander asked, blowing her a kiss. Eliza caught it mid-air, and nodded with a gentle smile. He sighed... he was beyond lucky to have a woman like her, and he knew she was too good for him. Especially when...

"Evening, sir," he heard, and his heart began to beat faster. He turned slowly to find Maria, smirking at him in a glittering red dress. God, it hugged her curves so nicely, and shit, did he ever notice how big her-

"Evenin'!" Alexander shot back, rubbing his hands together and rocking on  his heels, "Great party!"

"Well... _you're_ hosting it," Maria smiled, sauntering a little closer to him. Alex drew in a breath, and nodded.

"Yeah... yeah, we... I... am."

"Listen," she whispered teasingly, setting her drink down. "I know you're a man of honour and all, but... my husband left me, and I'm so lonely." She gave him a playful little laugh. "Can a girl get a dance from her boss for Christmas?"

Alex's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, awkward demeanor only intensifying around the seductive woman. "Oh! Y-yeah, I don't see the harm in.. um... yeah, cool beans!" He let Maria take his arm, and they went out to the dance floor. Unfortunately for Alexander, it was a slow song, so Maria rested her chin on his shoulder, his entire body going rigid. Could she feel it if he started getting hard? Because he was pretty sure he was getting there.

"Is that your wife?" Maria asked, nodding to Eliza. Alex turned, and nodded, exhaling.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's her."

"She's very beautiful," Maria sighed, looking down almost wistfully. Alexander felt the sudden urge to compliment her, prove to her how beautiful she really was.

"No more than you, though," Alex replied in an equally low, sultry voice, and immediately as he said it, he felt the guilt wash over him. He was just trying to be nice! Right?! He was totally hard for Eliza, _only_ Eliza, he had been imagining Eliza this whole dance! In a red dress... with chestnut hair, and round, kissable breasts...

Eliza watched her husband, dancing dangerously close to that woman... she was sexy, no doubt. Eliza never felt so self-conscious in her life... she was nothing compared to how hot that woman was. She watched her lean into her husband's neck, grazing her lips against his cheek, and her breath hitched. What was going on?

"Relax," Maria cooed into Alex's ear, "Dancing's no fun if you're all tense like this." _I'm tense because my goddamn wife is probably watching me grind against you,_ Alex thought desperately, but swallowed his words, letting himself relax in her arms.

"Great party," Alex chuckled weakly, "Did I already say that?"

"Yes," Maria whispered in his ear, "Sir?"

"Yep?" Alexander responded, hands grazing dangerously close to her hips.

"Are you going to get something for _me_ for Christmas?"

"I... I hadn't thought," Alex croaked, his mouth going dry. He was most certainly erect now. "What do you need?"

"I don't want something I need," Maria breathed back, lips ghosting over his ear, "I want something I _want_."

"What about you? Did... did you get anything for me?" Alex attempted a joke but fell short. Maria smiled against his cheek, leaving the faintest smear of lipstick.

"I thought I made it clear... when it comes to me, you can have anything you want."

Alexander quickly pulled away, stuttering. "I... oh, shit, is that my phone ringing?" he muttered, and stumbled back through the crowd, leaving Maria alone and helpless on the dance floor. Alexander immediately took Eliza's hand, causing the punch to spill a little.

"Alexander, what-"

"Let's get outta here," he murmured, flashing her the eyes. He was stiff in his pants, aching even, and _god_ , he couldn't get those lips out of his head. He kissed Eliza's hand. "Accompany me to the backseat of our car, before we have to be home for Philip?" Eliza began to grin, all previous suspicions fleetingly forgotten.

"How could I say no to _that_?"

❅❅❅

Hercules' friendly landlady unlocked the door to the lakeside cabin, opening it to an empty, blissfully quiet area. Pulling his grey beanie lower on his head, Hercules smiled, the first smile he had cracked since...

"Come to me if you need anything, mon cher," the landlady smiled, "And you will be needing someone to clean and take care of you- all men do, I know these things- so I took the liberty of hiring you a maid." She stepped aside to reveal a tall, graceful-looking person, frizzy dark hair tied back in a bun and beard immaculately trimmed. Hercules couldn't keep his eyes off of them...

"This is Gilbert Lafayette... they're non-binary, so make sure to-"

"Refer to them with gender neutral pronouns," Herc nodded, still dazed in Lafayette's presence, "Yeah, my friend Alex had a sibling-in-law that was non-binary."

The landlady smiled. "I'll leave you to it, then- will Mrs. Mulligan be joining you on this visit?" Herc's smile disappeared.

"Liz isn't coming back. And, uh... she was never Mrs. Mulligan." He looked away. "Not yet."

Getting inside and setting his stuff down, he turned back to Laf, who was re-hanging Herc's coat properly. Herc chuckled a little, and grinned at them.

"Hey. Guess we're gonna be hanging around for a while out here alone, huh?"

"Oui, monsieur," Laf replied, and Hercules' eyes widened.

"Oh... oh, French... okay... um... je m'appelle Hercules, ou je suis un enfant de fleur." (My name is Hercules, or I am a flower child.) For some reason, Laf found this funny, beginning to snort.

"Votre français est pire que mon jeu de cracher," ( _Your French is worse than my spit game_ ) they cackled, slapping their knee, and Herc frowned.

"I... I don't see what's so funny about me being a tailor..."

After Lafayette had finished laughing and wiping his eyes, he got right to work and began to wipe off the wooden table that faced the lake. Herc would use this as his work table, but he felt bad about Laf doing everything... even though it was their job.

"Look, I know you're my maid and all, but... maybe I could make you some coffee while you work?" Herc offered.

"Puis-je prendre un café crémeux avec trois sucres, pendant que je travaille?" Laf asked, wiping their forehead. (Can I have a creamy coffee with three sugars, while I work?)

A couple of minutes later, Herc placed freshly brewed coffee down in front of Laf with a wink. "You look like a black no sugar kinda person."

Laf stared down at the dark cup. "Imbécile," they deadpanned sassily, and lifted the mug to clean the ring it had left.

At the end of the day, Herc had accomplished... virtually nothing. Lafayette kept strutting by, bending over every time they wiped something or dusted a low area... how was he expected to get anything done out here when the view was this good? _Both views, that is_ , Herc thought to himself, glancing out at the wintery, gently rippling lake.

Soon, it came time to drive Laf home, and Hercules felt strangely remorseful as they got into his truck to drive Laf to the nearest bus station. The drive was long, filled with lots of awkward broken french on Hercules' part: " Voulez-vous manger mon cul?" (Would you like to eat my ass?) Lafayette had choked on that one, and Herc had frowned again. "Parce-que... uh... parce-que... because I'm not that hungry." He offered his _pear_ over to Laf, who was still busy laughing their head off. "What?! What did I say?!"

" Je vais volontiers te manger le cul, Hercules," (I will gladly eat your ass, Hercules) Laf grinned, and took a bite of the pear from his hand. Hercules swallowed, watching a little juice run down Laf's chin... fuck, this was not rebound lust, this was _not_ rebound lust- this was something that he didn't usually get after _one fucking day_ of knowing someone. He actually found himself blushing in Lafayette's sunny presence.

After Hercules stopped the car at the station, they got out of the car.

"That was fun," Hercules said, "Spending time with you."

"Je suis triste de vous laisser, mon nouveau, hopeless, hilarant compagnon," (I am sad to leave you, my new, hopeless, hilarious companion) Laf murmured, and kissed both side of Herc's cheeks goodbye. Hercules lifted a hand to his face, feeling the remnants of their purple lipstick. Laf kept their gaze forward, wondering why they didn't just kiss a man as attractive as Hercules on the lips.

❅❅❅

"I'm bored," Philip mumbled, collapsing on the floor. It was around 10 PM, and Eliza and Alex were still out at the staff party. Angelica looked down at the boy.

"I thought you liked Charades."

"I do," Philip sighed, "But..."

"But, you're thinking about Theodosia," Angelica nodded, "I know that look. I got it when I first saw Aunt Adrienne."

"What did you do?" Philip asked, wide eyed.

"I went up to her, asked if she wanted to hang out at the library."

"What happened?"

"She kissed me." Philip's eyes widened, and Angelica shrugged. "She's french, what can I say?"

"I don't know if Theo's gonna do that... girls are so complicated. What do girls love, Aunt Ang?"

"Chocolate, setting fire to the patriarchy, and respect."

"What's a patri-archy?" Philip asked.

"A very dumb thing, Pip. Now why don't we hook up the TV and play Singstar? Your parents are gonna be home soon, and when they come in, they're gonna put you to bed."

"Wait... Singstar..." Philip mused, bouncing up and hurling himself off the couch excitedly, "Singstar! That's it! Girls love singers... a-and rappers... and," the mini Hamilton began to talk a mile a minute, "I always hear Theo talking about all her favourite rappers!"

"Hold up, hold up- aren't you forgetting one little thing?" Angelica asked, straightening out his little purple housecoat.

"I can't rap?" Philip asked, smiling smugly. Angelica nodded, and Philip giggled. "You're wrong! I'm the best dag rapper you'll ever hear!"

He then attempted a back flip, landing on his right arm and groaning. Angelica blinked at her nephew, regretting her decision to give him ice cream.

** One Week To Christmas **

Aaron couldn't stop thinking about her. He could barely talk to Marcus anymore, not over video chat, not over text, even, without feeling like a horrible person. Then, he had nowhere else to turn, he called Marcus.

"Hey, man."

"Aaron!" Mark grinned, "What's up?!"

"Nothing much."

"Spending the holidays with friends?"

Aaron looked around his flat, at the emptiness that surrounded. "Yeah... yeah, sure am, buddy. Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something..."

"Sure, fire away," Mark smiled.

"I... that is to say, we... or... me and..." Aaron started, then it all began to rush up on him what he was doing, and what he was ruining in doing so. Then he started to think of her.

Memories of that night came flashing back, of how Theo's skin felt under his fingertips, the scent of her tumbling hair as Aaron held her to him, burying himself in all that she was, listening to her moans and feeling her nails scratch his back...

Was a confession really worth sacrificing a lifelong friendship, for something he'd never have? He'd never get to see his daughter ever again if he came clean, so he quickly reconsidered.

"I... was wondering if you two were going out of town for the holidays!"

"No, mate- staying here for Theo's Christmas play! She's really become my pride and joy, y'know?"

"Yeah..." Aaron whispered, "I know."

❅❅❅

Another day, another radio show. George smiled pleasantly as the host led him in, introducing his past hits.

"Singer of hits like, "You'll Be Back," "What Comes Next," and "I Know Him," George is on fire right now after dropping his new Christmas single, "You'll Be Merry!" George, what kind of month have you had, huh?!"

George crossed his legs, leaning into the microphone. "A rather strange one, filled with bad deja-vu and holiday fuckery."

"Uh huh... Well, what are you doing for Christmas?"

"I'll probably spend it with my utter ninny of a manager, since I've got nothing better to do with my time." Samuel looked a little crestfallen at this, but hid it well. George also put himself off with that line, but _image was a thing, and having senseless feelings for your manager had no part in this._

"Even if your song hits number one?!" the host grinned, "It is in second place now, with only one week to beat your rival artist, GWash Songz! People are calling this music death match "The King vs. The General!""

"Yes, well, I've met GWash Songz," George sniffed, "And though his voice is somewhat superior to mine, I am far superior to him in every other way." Samuel nodded, giving him another thumbs up from behind the glass. George found himself smiling a little at the smaller man's childlike enthusiasm, but quickly replaced his expression with a masking scowl. "My penis is also much larger than his."

Samuel's smile began to fade, eyes widening in warning, but the host asked after this one. 

"How do you know?" 

George shrugged. "Coachella, '08. Many a sangria can go a long way on a hot summer's night."

" _SO_ , let's let the King lead us into his new hit song!" the host began to sweat, and George plugged one ear.

"Not this trash again." Samuel fainted into a chair.

_"You saaay... the price of good cheer's not a price that you're willing to pay-"_

❅❅❅

Thomas checked his reflection for the umpteenth time. He already had nerves about him, and the incessant Mariah Carrey being played around the White House was enough to drive a man crazy. _One week to Christmas... right._ The president of France was arriving any minute, and Thomas should really be standing outside the door, waiting for his guest, but he still had his bathrobe on, and jesus-

"Sir?"

"James! JamesJamesJemmyJames, I'm gonna call you that because I'm the President and I can, he's coming, the French president is coming and I'm still in my bathrobe and panties!" Madison gave him a weird look, and Thomas drew back a little. "What? They make my legs look spectacular."

"Sir, what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be there for me because I'm really nervous," Thomas sputtered, unabashedly tossing his robe off so that he was 90% naked in the oval office.

"Wow," James breathed, "Alright..."

"You with me?!" Thomas shouted, buttoning up a shirt, and James scrambled to go get his suit jacket.

"Yes, yes I am."

"Good- do I look presentable?"

"You never look presentable."

"Wonderful, let's go."

They walked out into the lobby of the House, to see Louis already there, shaking the hands of all the advisors and members of Thomas' cabinet.

"You must be Louis," Thomas flashed his charming smile, "Pleasure, Thomas Jefferson."

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you monsieur," Louis smiled, and looked behind him. "Ah, and who is this sexy little flower of yours?"

"Oh..." Thomas was  caught a little off guard for the second time in that lobby, as he turned to see Madison still behind him, looking quite uncomfortable under the physical scrutiny. Thomas suddenly felt protective of his caterer, and more than a little awkward for engaging in locker room talk right in front of the guy. "Oh, he's not... mine... um-" Suddenly, the president had lost most of his charm and confidence. 

"It was only an expression, ami," Louis assured lightheartedly, and patted his back. "Come- we have much to discuss before the conference tomorrow."

The two important men spent the rest of the day and into the night going over foreign policies and agreements and disagreements with the changes America was to oversee under Jefferson's administration. The day after, the conference had gone smoothly- aside from Thomas' constant rolling over on his back for the French.

"No offense, Mr. President," Adams said, "But your foreign policy is... to put it lightly, weak." Thomas smiled a little, shaking his head.

"I know y'all want me to jump into something drastic, but-"

"That _was_ your campaign promise," Adams reminded him softly, but Thomas went on.

"-But I am not prepared to make a change just yet that may jeopardize our relationship with the great country of France," he finished, gesturing to Louis, who sat at the other head of the meeting table, smug and content. The Americans at the table shifted uncomfortably, chattering quietly amongst themselves. Jefferson felt a bad taste in his mouth... even he hated how that sounded; he was becoming the very swayable, opportunistic politician that he had grown up hating.

That night, the two representatives sat in the fireplace room, overlooking the grounds with glasses of scotch.

"Well, it's been a great day with you, Mr. President," Thomas said, "Press conference tomorrow, and you'll be on your way. But there is one more thing that I'd like to touch on tonight, it's very close to my heart." He got up, holding up a finger, and exited the room for a moment to grab the tax cut files. On his way, he saw James carrying up some tea and candies.

"Hey!" Thomas grinned, waving, then immediately cursed himself when he was past Madison. _Hey? Really? Ugh, smooth._

Thomas whistled to himself, trying to find the manilla folder, and did eventually, sauntering back over to the room... only to crack open the door and find Louis' hand on James' ass. James looked to Thomas immediately, his cheeks a deeper colour and expression extremely uncomfortable. Thomas' lips parted a little, and he felt anger begin to coil in his gut. James' look begged him not to explode at the President, but also to get him out of this situation, fast. Thomas thought quick.

"Jemm- uh, Mr. Madison, I need you to go find my federal files, if you would sir."

"Right away," James nodded, and brisked past them out the door. Thomas sucked in a breath, and turned to Louis as the French President gave a low whistle.

"What a beautiful shape he's got, non? Hmmm..."

Thomas returned to him a tight smile.

"Can we get back to politics, please?"

The next day, the press conference came about early. Many questions were asked about the relationship between France and America, and Louis answered most of them with, "Very suitable," and "Content." Thomas couldn't stop fidgeting through the entire thing, until one of the last questions.

"How will our partnership move forward from this meeting?" a reporter asked, and before Louis could answer again, Thomas frowned, stepping up to his mic.

"Partnership... funny word, that," he began and his advisors all began to look at each other in curiosity of what would follow this. "See, partnership infers that we've each got an equal part in it. That, I'm afraid, is not what's been going on in the room where all this happens." Taking a breath, Thomas folded all of his cue cards over behind the podium, tossing them over his shoulder. "Back in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century, France and America joined together for a common cause... creating a nation, advocating for freedom, equality, national greatness. We both gave our all to the partnership in those days, but now... I fear our balance has shifted, ever so slightly. Our partnership with the French seems an awful lot to me, like a relationship with a bully. America will not be bullied. Not with me at the helm, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to take back this country's greatness with equality, demands for rights to everyone who deserve them, and damn if I'm gonna let any other country walk all over us." He turned to Louis. "Our partnership stands, sir. But it is just that- a _partner_ ship of two great nations on their way to success."

Madison looked up from where he had his head down at the back of the room, beginning to clap. Soon, the entire American cabinet began to cheer, leaving Louis speechless. Cameras flashed, recorders clicked... and Thomas Jefferson was the man of the hour.

"That was too impressive," James told him after, smiling slightly, "Did you write that down?"

"Nah, spur of the moment, that's just how I do. America's early Christmas gift from good ol' Uncle TJeffs," Thomas grinned back, and the two of them descended into a fit of delirious laughter.

❅❅❅

Maria's words echoed in Alexander's mind for days after the Christmas party, and they finally got to them the day Eliza announced they still had to make one last run to the mall before Christmas for last minute gifts. Maybe Alex would feel a little less pressure if he just got her a gift. It wasn't a big deal... it wasn't! It was getting a co-worker a gift, it wasn't any more weird than getting Burr a gift. Although, Alex wasn't currently standing over a 24 karat gold necklace with Burr in mind...

"How much?" he asked, running  a hand through his hair and looking around to make sure he was alone.

"Six hundred, mate," the guy told him, and looked down at the necklace with the big red stone in the middle. "Looks like the necklace I gave my wife for our wedding, only hers was solid gold, no ruby. Theodosia's a big fan of gold stuff."

"Great, I didn't come here for a run-down of your love life, pal," Alex muttered, "I'll... fuck it, I'll take it." The British guy put his hands up, and while he was packaging it, Alex jiggled his hands around. He should really start stress smoking again, because holy fuck, there was no other way to put an end to his constant state of paranoia and anxiety.

 _Maybe by_ not _buying Maria Reynolds a ruby necklace for Christmas?_

Alex shut down that logical part of his mind, and instead focused on the monitor above the shelves playing the live performance of George King's new single, You'll Be Merry. Alex started humming along, until his gift was packaged. He paid, and whipped around- almost knocking his wife over. She smiled.

"What were you doing over here?" she asked teasingly, and Alex grinned weakly.

"Oh, y'know... pretending to be rich so I could afford one of those yankers, heh."

Later, when they got back to the house, Eliza wrapped her arms around her husband. "You okay? You seem tense."

"Yeah, fine. I'll be right back, 'kay?"

"Okay," Eliza trilled, and when she was sure he had gone to the other room, she excitedly checked his jacket pocket for what he had been shopping for in the jewellery section. She nearly squealed when she found the beautiful necklace, the ruby in the middle glinting, and wondered what she had done to deserve the man she had.

"Alex?" she grinned, quickly tucking the gift away and zipping his pocket back up, "Where are you?"

She found him on the back porch, speed-smoking a quick cigarette.

"What's wrong?" she frowned, "You quit a year ago."

"Uh..." Alex breathed, wincing, "New Year's Resolution? Again?"

Eliza came over to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Relax, baby," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his middle, "It's almost Christmas. I know work's been hard, but you'll have some time off soon, and then we can all go up North to the cottage by the lake..."

"Yeah," Alexander exhaled, picturing Maria slipping the necklace on and dropping to her knees to thank him, "Yeah."

❅❅❅

Hercules hummed happily along to an ACDC song he had been listening to, as he sewed some pants he had been meaning to fix for a client. As much as he hated to admit his old life had been dull, it definitely was much nicer here in France for solitary work.

...Well, not quite solitary. Laf was fucking walking around the place in booty shorts that shouldn't be legal in the winter, in an oversized hoodie that _totally_ belonged to Herc... the tailor was pretty sure Lafayette had just kept it after claiming, in french, they were cold the day before. _I mean, it didn't look likely Hercules was gonna get it back anyway, but what right did they have to look so damn good in it?!!!_

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais?" (what are you doing?) the french native asked, peeking over his shoulder, and Hercules flexed his biceps just a little in his muscle top- it was a natural reflex, nothing more- as he showed Laf his work.

"I sew stuff for a living."

"Vous avez vu des choses? Êtes-vous un meurtrier, comme cette marionnette de ce film avec les chaînes dans la salle...?" ( _You saw things? Are you a murderer? Like that puppet from that movie with the chains in the room.._.?)

Herc watched Laf make back and forth motions with their hands as they talked, and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that, exactly!" Laf gave Herc a weird look, backing away slowly, and Herc frowned a little. "What? It's a respectable job..."

They had fallen into a routine. Herc would spend the day working, and Laf would clean the house in all the spots he had forgotten the night before. Hercules did _not_ gaze at Laf's long, muscular legs when they weren't looking, and Laf did _not_ make little grunting noises every time they had to reach a hard place on the shelf.

Except when they did.

It wasn't completely Herc's fault that day, when he was watching Laf instead of paying attention, that his spools of thread fell into the lake. Really, one: he shouldn't have been sewing on the dock when it was this windy, and two: he should have been focusing- he would have sewn his fingers together if not for pain receptors. But when it did happen, Herc freaked out- and Laf took the opportunity to spring to the rescue.

"Ne vous inquiétez pas, Hercules! Je vais enregistrer votre précieuses choses à coudre." (Do not worry, Hercules! I will save your precious sewing things.) Then, they proceeded to dash down the dock (at incredulous, athletic speed), and tear off their shirt.

"Ahh," Herc mumbled, mouth hanging slightly open at the sight. Laf stood there, brows furrowed in determination as they got into diving prostitution. Herc watched their back muscles flex, and just about went into shock.

"It's... it's fine! Really, they're... not that important..." Laf jumped in, shivering once they were underwater. They surfaced, searching for the bag floating.  

"Ceux-ci doivent être importants," (these better be important) they grumbled, and Herc's eyes widened.

"Shit, they're in. They're gonna think I'm a total fucking spaz if I don't jump in too, shit..." Shooting up quickly, he hopped out of his summer shorts so that he was only in his boxers- seriously, why the fuck would he do that?- and with an aggrieved, "AHHHH!" cannonballed into the lake with much less grace than Lafayette's swan dive. "Fuck... fuck... cold..."

"Merde, c'est froid!" Laf chattered, shaking their hair around in shivered convulsions. Herc began to swim, looking around frantically under the water and accidentally sent a wave of cold water splashing into Laf's face. The french maid blinked, less than impressed as they spat the water out. Finally, Laf spotted the little blue bag, and paddled over to retrieve it.

Herc got out of the water, dragging himself to his pants. Laf held the pouch between their teeth as they swam back to the dock. Watching Laf hoist their body up onto the wood, Herc tried not to faint at the sight of those rippling muscles... he had a fuck-ton of build himself, but seeing what _Laf_ was hiding under those sweaters?? Shit. They weren't as lanky as Herc had thought, and he would certainly give anything to see what was lower...

Despite the frigid water soaking his clothes, the tailor began to feel a little hot under the collar. _Stop perving on your maid, dude,_ he told himself. But it was a little hard when Laf began to _use their damn shirt to dry off their face, little droplets of water stuck in their beard, their mascara trailing ughhh...._

"Blankets," he whispered, and tore his eyes off of Laf long enough to run back to the cottage. A few minutes later, when they were both safely wrapped in fluffy throws, Herc attempted to speak.

"Sorry about that... I guess if I had been sewing inside, this never would have happened." Herc must have looked extremely apologetic, since Laf caught onto the sentiment somewhat.

"Je ne me plains pas - Je dois te voir dans tes sous-vêtements." (I am not complaining- I got to see you in your underwear.)

"Sorry about the whole underwear thing," Herc laughed nervously, "I... hate pants... unless I'm making them." _Shit, that was a weird thing to say..._

"J'aime des pantalons," (I love pants) Laf smiled, "Surtout ceux que vous portez qui étreindre votre magnifique cul, mmm..." (Especially the ones you wear that hug your magnificent ass, mmm...) He made a little squeezing motion, and Herc raised an eyebrow at the chattering mound of blankets across from him.

Driving home that evening felt different. Laf engaged a little more in conversation, even though the language barrier was still very much present... they decided to try a few words out for conversation as they painted their toenails on the dash.

"What... are you... doing... for Noel?" Laf asked, struggling over their words and making a lot of adorable hand gestures with the polish brush. "Ou, Chris Mass, I... should... say."

Herc beamed at the attempt. "You learned a little English!" _For me? Jesus, why didn't you just use this English earlier?_ In response, he made an effort to talk slowly so Laf may be able to understand this time. "Visiting my parents." Laf still looked a little confused, so Herc searched for a different way of saying it. "My... mom and dad? Mere and pere?"

"Ah, ah!" Laf exclaimed, eyes widening, "Family visit, yes?"

"Yeah!" Herc smirked, turning left down the ramp to the station, "Hope my brother's not there, though. He's a cheating dickbag."

"Could you... repeat for me?"

"Nah, nothin' important," Herc sighed, a flashed Laf a sad smile. They got out, and Laf gathered their bags, effortlessly lifting them over their shoulders. They still had Herc's hoodie on, but shit, it looked so good on Laf's athletic frame, he didn't have the heart to ask for it back.

"So... I guess I won't see you again until after Christmas," Herc mumbled, kicking at the ground. The thought pained him, and wished he could just reach out, hug his precious Lafayette and never let go.

"I... guess... not seeing you until later Chris Mass, yes," Laf nodded. Fuck, they were so cute... it was hurting Herc's heart to see how much they were trying to communicate with him. He continued to nod, searching for something to part with.

"Well, um... you'd better get going... the station'll be in anarchy this close to the holidays."

"'Onarchy," Laf agreed with a laugh.

" _Anarchy_ ," Herc helped them out, and Laf met his eyes.

"Anarchy," they whispered softly, "'S what I said..." The two spent a long period of time just staring at each other, until Herc let out a wistful sigh.

"I wish I never had to let you go," he muttered, hoping Laf couldn't understand that.

"Je t'aime plus que Noël, mon cher Hercules." (I love you more than Christmas, my dear Hercules.)

"Bye, Laf," Herc whispered, a little choked up.

"Je suis à vous," (I am yours) Laf replied, and craned their neck to kiss Herc on the cheek. Hercules, shocked speechless, watched them turn and leave, cap pulled tightly down over their head to contain their unruly hair. His heart beat faster, and he felt like collapsing after that display of affection, however small.

This Christmas would be the worst if Herc had to spend it alone and without a certain french housekeeper.

Lafayette turned back to look at their companion as he walked back to his car... it would be a sad Christmas without him, indeed.

❅❅❅

Philip set the beat, and hopped around in his room. He had adjusted his hat sideways, so that his puffy hair sprouted out of the sides. He had to show Aunt Ang what he had come up with so far- he was about halfway through creating a mixtape for Theodosia, as per his dad's suggestion.

"Mixtapes were always a way to show someone you really liked that you were into them," Alex had counselled Philip seriously, "A personal gift."

Theo was bound to _love_ this.

Philip had poured his little nine-year-old heart and soul out into this collection of recordings, and he was beyond excited to give them to Theo.

After a listen, Angelica couldn't stop grinning. "This is a masterpiece, little man."

"It is?!"

"I stand corrected, you are a little prodigy when it comes to rapping."

"Think Theo's gonna go for it?!"

"I don't see how she couldn't."

It's not like Eliza or Alexander or, for that matter, Angelica, needed any actual sleep. 24/7, it was now nothing but a "sick beat" from Philip's room, keeping the entire house up; nothing but the best for his Theodosia.

** Christmas Eve  **

Aaron knew it was inappropriate. Just like getting Theodosia pregnant with Theo Jr. in the first place was. But this was the only way to safely get it off his chest...

Theo heard the doorbell ring.

"Who's fucking bothering us on Christmas Eve?" Mark complained, and Theodosia slapped his chest playfully.

"Pause the movie... I'll be right back. I think Theo wants more popcorn, maybe you should make some more!"

"Dad, can I have more eggnog too?" Theo grinned, flipping her hair out of her face, and Mark reluctantly nodded.

"Sure thing, sweet pea."

Theodosia jogged down the stairs of their walk up, and opened the door. "Aaron?" she asked, looking around. He was alone in the alley, holding a stack of signs. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at a party or something tonight?" Aaron didn't respond, so she opened the door a little wider. "Well, come in-"

Aaron held a finger to his lips, and held up the first sign.

_Say it's a church group._

"Who the bloody hell's at the door?!" Mark shouted down in good nature, "We've got to hurry if we want to finish this movie before we have to get Theo to the school holiday show!"

"Um... it's a church group," Theodosia called back hesitantly.

"Oh... well, it's Christmas I suppose, so... go on, carry on then."

Aaron held up another sign.

_I know I shouldn't be here._

Theodosia quirked a perfect eyebrow as he switched signs, and Aaron had to look down at the sign to avoid tearing up while looking at her.

_And I know I was too late before, but I couldn't wait for it any longer for this._

Switch.

_I love you, Theodosia._

Switch, a soft gasp from Theodosia.

_I love our beautiful daughter. She takes my breath away every time I think about her... the same goes for you._

Theodosia covered her mouth, and she held the doorknob for support.

_Forget everything I just said... I'm just a friend. Truly._

"Aaron..." she whispered, and Aaron offered a small smile, switching for the last sign.

_Some things just aren't meant to work out that way._

Switch.

_Merry Christmas, love._

Theodosia felt tears spring to her eyes. "I've been thinking about our night," she told him quietly, "There are so many unanswered questions... Why, why didn't you _say_ something?!"

"I thought that fate would bring me to you if I waited for it. Fate had different plans," Aaron smiled, kissing her hand. "Night, Theo. I'll see you at the next bar night with Mark, where we add this to the "pretend this never happened" list."

Theodosia watched Aaron turn and give a little wave, but before he could cross the street, she murmured, "Wait," rushing out to him. "Can we add this to the list too?" she asked, and slotted her lips against his in a sweet, slow kiss. Aaron cupped her cheeks, and Theodosia wrapped her arms around him. After a few moments, they pulled away, and Aaron smiled, breathing out. Theodosia smiled back.

"I'll tape her performance tonight for you."

Aaron nodded to her in thanks. "'Preciate it." She backtracked to her door.

"Night, Aaron," Theodosia whispered, and Aaron walked away, tossing the signs in a nearby recycling bin.

"Let her go," he breathed, and headed back home to watch reruns of Miracle On 34th Street.

❅❅❅

George was surrounded by a party chock full of glamorous celebrities, much like himself, and everyone was waiting for _the_ call. Samuel held the phone, anticipation nearly killing him... then it rang.

"Silence! A message from the studio!" Samuel shrieked, and put the call on speakerphone.

"George! You did it- your fans came through, and the song made number one!"

"Hm... I did say that they'd be back," George chuckled, and the whole room erupted into cheers. The pop star eventually held up a finger as someone passed a phone to him. "Hello? Lin-Manuel Miranda! Aha! You're inviting me to your Christmas bash, you say?" Samuel watched from the crowd, almost crestfallen at the invitation. Of course he was happy for George's success- he had only spent his entire career ensuring it. But the way George's eyes lit up at the invitation almost hurt him... the last thing the star would want to do is celebrate Christmas with his loser for a manager.

"Oh darling, you know me- always up for a sleepless night."

So, Samuel set up at home, putting on old reruns of golden girls and scooping himself a bowl of candy cane ice cream. About an hour into it, he began to imagine what George was doing now... he was probably sipping at some peppermint tea or at least a light spritzer... he was never a heavy drinker at parties. Cocaine, on the other hand, had been quite the fun few months back in '07... that was back around the release of "What Comes Next," when George's songs were in high demand. Samuel snorted softly at the memory, thinking back to George leaning on him, eyes as wide and wild as he was high. The memory turned a little sour when George almost tweeted a nude selfie of himself while in a rocketed stupor, so Samuel directed his thoughts back to the present. Every single god damn step of the way, there were little things that convinced him even more each day how hard he had fallen for George King... but then, who hadn't?

Samuel scoffed, wondering if he shouldn't just buy that door poster of George, half naked in a crown and a Dalmatian fur with a sceptre blocking his private parts... every other horny fan in love with him had it, it was tastefully reminiscent of 90s era Brittany Spears. Samuel groaned... he remembered that photo shoot too, how sultry George looked...

Pressing pause on Golden Girls, Samuel rubbed his temples, debating whether or not he should just resign himself to sleep so the morning would come faster, and Christmas would be over sooner. Then came the knock. Samuel frowned, setting his bowl of melted ice cream aside. He had paid the landlord... he didn't really have any friends...

"Who is it?" he trilled curiously, ever polite, and the door opened.

"Why do you never lock your door, Seabury?" George asked, "I could have been a psychotic stalker!"

"You _are_ a psychotic stalker, have you listened to your own music?" Samuel muttered back, and George smiled.

"Touché."

Samuel looked up, his frown still very much present. "Why are you here? And not... partying with Lin-Manewell Meeranda?"

"Ooh, he would hate you for butchering his name so poorly," George deadpanned, then shook his head. "Seabury, I... I don't... know, exactly, why I'm here."

"Uh huh," Samuel nodded, sighing, "Splendid, I assume you're high, sir?"

" _No I am not high_ ," George snapped curtly, then sniffed, straightening his back. "There I was, celebrating with the cast of that Broadway show, Franklin. I had been dared to make out with Daveed Diggs- mind, he is an extremely attractive specimen-"

Samuel shrugged, unable to disagree there.

"-And..." George bit his fist, "And good lord, Samuel, I had an epiphany."

"An epiphany, sir?"

"A very shocking one," George murmured, rubbing his bottom lip idly, "You see... amidst all the celebrity hubbub and holiday spirit, I realized... I don't want to make out with Daveed Diggs, Samuel!"

"You don't, sir?" Samuel asked, scratching his head.

"I don't! I want to make out with you!" With that, the pop star rushed forward, seizing the thinner man in an embrace and a deep, heart-stopping kiss. After a moment, George moaned a little, leading his manager back into the couch, where he pinned Samuel down against his sickeningly festive snowman cushions.

"You are high, aren't you?" Samuel mumbled out, and George smirked down at him.

"Perhaps on the very cheer I swore I was immune to. I would very much like to send you a bundled box of chocolates and a jolly Christmas card to remind you of my love, my dear Seabury. Would you allow me?"

Unable to form a properly witty response, Samuel just dragged George down for another kiss, mentally checking off the last and only item on his Christmas list.

❅❅❅

Everyone had gone home for the holidays, and Thomas was left without anyone to bug, bother, or flirt with. He supposed he could call up some ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends; anyone would take him back now that he was president... but truthfully, there was only one man on Jefferson's mind this Christmas Eve.

"Sally?" he asked his secretary, beckoning her in. The stylish young woman raised her eyebrows at him.

"Sir?"

"Be a lamb darling, won't you, and find an address for me?"

Sally rolled her eyes, but Thomas frowned at her, so she did it.

Just like that, the President of the United States, the single most powerful and most important man in America, was off being driven through a row of very expensive looking two-floor apartments on Christmas Eve. Getting out, he repeated the same mantra over and over in his head:

 _Do it for the cute Virginian, do it for the cute Virginian, do it for the cute Virginian. He may even become your husband one day! Woah, Thomas... way ahead of yourself, there... probably way ahead of him too. Then again, the thought might have crossed his mind-_ With a shaky breath, he stilled his thoughts and began to hum Jingle Bells.

Thomas knocked on the first door, as Sally had only been able to pinpoint the street, not the exact address. A young-ish guy in a fedora opened the door.

"Hey... is James here?" Thomas asked, hopping from foot to foot.

"Sure, I'm James."

"A Mr. James _Madison_ , is he there?"

"Wait... you the fuckin' President?!" James Reynolds asked, a bottle of whiskey sloshing in his hand. 

Thomas cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm the fucking president. Good night to you, sir."

Moving on to the next walk-up, he rapped on it loudly. The door swung open to reveal three little children.

"Are you here to sing Christmas carols for us?" one asked, and Thomas backed away slowly.

"Uhhh, I..."

"Please, Mr. President! Please!" they all cooed, and Thomas heaved a sigh. He supposed it was his civic duty to interact with citizens once and a while... even tiny ones, his least favourite kind.

"Yeah, okay. Shit, um..." he covered his mouth after swearing, then began to sing, very off-key, "Feliz Navidad! Feliz Navidaaad!" His voice cracked twice, and he made a face as he continued. Suddenly, behind him, his bodyguard cut in, singing beautifully. Thomas' eyes widened, and the kids began to dance.

Onto the next apartment.

"Hello, is James there?" Thomas asked, running a weary hand through his curls. The man who stood there was half naked, with another guy hanging over his back... was that- _George King, the famous pop star_?

"Are you-"

"Are you-" they both began at the same time, then Samuel cut in.

"Sir, if you're talking about James Madison, he's my neighbour. I hear him coughing all the time, so I know he hasn't moved out yet."

Thomas stifled a laugh. That's his Jemmy. The door was promptly closed followed by the sounds of high pitched squeals and giggling, and a noise that sounded an awful lot like spanking. The tall man promptly stepped over to the next place, and knocked.

"Thomas?" James asked, looking legitimately floored when the door opened. He was dressed in a dark green onesie, with little white Christmas trees on it.

"Nice onesie."

James visibly flinched. "I... didn't think anybody was going to see me tonight." He looked around for a jacket. "Sorry, sir-"

"No no, it's cute! I have one just like it, it's purple!" Thomas immediately wished he hadn't admitted that.

"Ah," James nodded.

"Anyway, I'm glad I caught you, but... weren't you invited to your friend's daughter's pageant?"

"Yes, but..." James shifted, "I'm not sure I want to-"

"James!"

"I don't feel that well..."

"Wait, get your clothes on _vite vite_ , and I'll drive you!" Thomas grinned, "Don't let kids down on Christmas, Jemmy, it's a sin."

"Mr. President-"

"I will not wait past five minutes, I'm a very busy, important man."

" _Thomas_ -"

"Hush, sugar. Hurry up, I want to talk to you in the car." Thomas felt his stomach fluttering as the door shut, and he watched James' silhouette in the upstairs window getting dressed. Look away... look away... He didn't look away.

Finally, James came back down in a smart casual outfit, and Thomas nodded, taking his arm and leading him to the limo. "How far away is this place?"

"R-right around the corner."

On their way to the school, they spent a long time almost looking at each other, exchanging awkward glances here and there.

"James, I..."

"Thomas, I- eh, Mr. President, that is..."

"Dammit James, don't call me that."

"Yes, sir."

"That either... unless it's in bed." Thomas grimaced. "Is that considered harassment if you still work for me?"

"Most likely."

"Yeah, great."

Suddenly they pulled up, and Thomas marvelled. "It really was right around the corner!" James bit his lip.

"Since we're here, and I'm too socially anxious to go in by myself... come in and see the show with me?"

The president threw his hands up. "Ohhh, no. Uh-uh. I don't want to draw the attention away from the kids, everyone'll think I'm a massive douche!"

"Everyone knows you're a massive douche, Thomas, but that's beside the point. I'll sneak you in," James assured, "I went here after moving from Virginia, I know my way around." Thomas hesitated, then agreed... not exactly how he saw tonight going, but he wasn't complaining.  

❅❅❅

Eliza sat back down with everyone around the tree, grinning from ear to ear. They had almost finished unwrapping the gifts... she was determined to save the best for last. Philip was sitting in his costume for the nativity play, a huge hot chocolate mustache lining his upper lip. Angelica was also there, Alex sitting with the children on the floor.

"Okay, I get to pick the next one," Eliza grinned, "I choose... this one!" She reached around to the back of the tree and grabbed the box she knew held that beautiful necklace. The card read: " _Sorry I've been so tense lately. Punish me later? ;) -Naughty Alexander_ " Eliza giggled, and clutched it close to her. "Should I just rip it?"

Alexander grinned back at her, his hair up in a loose bun. "Totally, just tear right into it. I'm actually pretty excited about this one."

Eliza quickly opened it, imagining what dresses she would wear the piece of jewellery with... but as the lid of the box fell off, Eliza's heart shattered into a million pieces. There was no necklace in the box... it was, instead, a CD.

"I know you like that dude," Alex smiled, rubbing his wife's hand as he held their youngest son in one arm, "I wanted to make it personal this year, instead of yet another scarf."

"Yeah," Eliza tried her best to smile as wide as she could, but she could already feel the tears springing to her eyes. "Well, wow... th-thank you so much, honey." She blinked a couple of times. "I... I just have to get something from the bedroom... you... can you all make sure you're ready to go? We need to get you in for the performance." Quickly rushing to the bedroom, Eliza shut the door quietly, and slid down to the floor. In a second, the tears were streaming down her cheeks... so there had been something going on between Alexander and that woman. Who else would that necklace have been for? Eliza wasn't a jealous person by nature, so she didn't want to suspect anything... she always wanted to see the best in her husband.

He had let her down.

Crying into her sleeve and letting out soft, choked sobs, Eliza got all her tears out. Then she stood back up, brushed herself off, and dried her eyes. Checking in the mirror, she made sure she was presentable... and, just as women do, she persevered.

"Ready to go?!" she beamed, opening her arms as she went back out into the living room. Everyone was getting there outdoor wear on. Angelica frowned at her, and came over.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah!" Eliza smiled, "Why do you ask?" Angelica narrowed her eyes.

"I know you like I know my own mind. I can tell when something's got you down."

"It's Christmas Eve, Angelica," Eliza sniffed, "What's there to be down about?" She gazed over at Alex, who was busy dressing little Angie. Her sorrow turned to betrayal, and anger. "Come on. We'll be late."

In her room across town, Maria admired her reflection in the mirror, the gold of the pretty necklace glinting.

"It's beautiful," she murmured to herself, and James came stumbling into the room.

"Who the fuck's that from?"

"A friend."

"You sure? You sure you haven't been whoring yourself out for shit like that, like the little slut you are?"

"Yes," Maria replied softly, flinching.

"Yeah... whatever. I don't give a fuck either way. You're mine, though... you'll always come running back to me at the end of the day." He wiped his nose. "I'm goin' to bed... don't keep me up with your fuckin' Christmas music all night." Maria kept her eyes trained on the necklace, closing her eyes as if to wish her husband away and wish Alexander's gentle hands back on her.

Meanwhile, Alexander looked up from the scarf he was wrapping around his daughter, wondering why Eliza suddenly seemed so despondent. Maybe the performance would relax her a little.

❅❅❅

Hercules lifted all the gifts he was about to bring into the house, the haul amounting to about twelve presents in total for all his little rugrat cousins. He mumbled a few French words out loud, practicing for... he didn't exactly know. Over the past week, Herc had picked up a couple of dictionaries and travelled to a few language classes in Paris. He now knew how to properly say, "I am not a pedophile, I love fried tomatoes!" among other useful things.

He was currently on his way to the airport, going home to see his family. His mother was having her annual Christmas party at Herc's family home back in America, and he was cutting it close for making it back in time, but he could do it if the weather stayed at it was. He thought of his family, all his little cousins... and his brother. Would Hugh be there? Then Hercules began picturing Lafayette's big brown eyes framed with long eyelashes, their soft smirk, how their nose scrunches up every time they attempt to speak English. He realized all too fast that he needed to get the bus station, not the airport.

"Uh, je suis desolée!" he said to the driver, praying his memory served him well with his phrasing, "à la station de bus?!" They raced their, and Herc paid, jumping out to run.

"Monsieur! Monsieur, vous avez oublié vos cadeaux!" (You forgot your gifts!)

By the time he got to the part of town he needed to be in, the only thing keeping Herc awake was determination to find the address he had written in his phone- before leaving his little cottage, he had contacted his very sleepy-sounding landlady to inquire after Lafayette's residence. After many questions, she finally told him that Laf lived with their parents and brother in a small village just outside of Paris called Chatre. He raced their immediately, riding the bus with nothing but his own thoughts.

_This is way too forward._

_I've only known Lafayette for a few weeks._

_But they make me feel so..._

_They'll probably say no._

_This is crazy, and stupid, and_ right _._

Herc finally came to his destination, knocking on the door of the quaint little place. If this was the wrong time or the wrong path for him, he knew fate would find a way to tell him.

"Bonjour," he read confidently from the mini dictionary in his hands, "Je veux épouser le progéniture." (I wish to marry the child.) The man standing at the door frowned.

"Jesus? Eh bien, c'est une bonne journée pour ... c'est son anniversaire!" (Jesus? Well, it's a good day to... it's his birthday!)

"P-pardon?" Herc skimmed back through his book for connecting words, and realized what he had done wrong. Fuck, he wasn't even religious. "Oh... no, not _the_ child... non, je veux épouser _votre_ progéniture."

"Ah, ah ah ah," the man nodded quickly, turning back and beckoning someone to the door. Herc puffed out his chest, taking a deep breath and holding it... until he saw who showed up.

"Michel, cet homme veut vous épouser." (Michel, this man wants to marry you.)

"W-wait," Herc put his hands up, "Uh... votre autre... Lafayette?"

The main raised an eyebrow. "Lafayette? Hm... on ne peut les dompter, monsieur, je ne pensais pas que c'était possible..." (They can't be tamed, sir, I did not think it was possible...)

Hercules smiled. "Ils n'ont pas encore apprivoisé. J'aime ça, hein ... un peu rebelle." (They still not tamed. I like that way, eh... a little rebellious.)

The man raised his eyebrows. "Eh bien, si c'est ce qui flotte votre bateau. Suivez-moi." (Okay, whatever floats your boat. Follow me.)

Herc grinned, nodding, and followed the two out the door at Laf's younger brother sized him up.

"Merde..." Michel whispered to his father, "J'aimerais qu'il _soit_ ici pour moi!" (Shit... I wish he _was_ here for me!)

"Shhhh." Along the way, Michel told passing people on the street: "Venez, suivez-nous... Le père va vendre Lafayette à cet Américain!" (Come, follow us... father's going to sell Lafayette to this American!)

"Monsieur..." Laf's dad began.

"Mulligan."

"Monsieur Mulligan, Lafayette travaille au restaurant ce soir. J'espère que vous êtes ici pour une bonne raison." (Mr. Mulligan, Lafayette works at the restaurant tonight. I hope you are here for a good reason.) Herc nodded assuredly, trying to keep up through the narrow cobblestone alleys.

"Je suis ici pour la raison très génial, croyez-moi." (I am here for very awesome reason, trust me.) By now, Michel was telling every curious passerby to: "Suivez-nous - cet Américain est venu tuer Lafayette!" (Follow us- this American's come to kill Lafayette!)

With a large crowd following them to see this crazy development, hey made it to the restaurant Laf apparently worked nights in after their day job with Herc. Laf's dad shouted for them.

"Laf! Il ya un grand homme attirant ici pour vous voir! Mieux vaut attention, il a des muscles plus jolis que ta mère!" (There is a large attractive man here to see you! Better pay attention, he has muscles prettier than your mother!)

Hercules looked up to where the tall, elegant love of his damn life shifted their attention from the couple they were waiting on down to the doorway. Their hair was pulled back still, wearing a tight black long-sleeve dress and a white apron. Herc noticed the small, diamond earrings they were wearing, and almost cried.

"Hercules?" Laf breathed, dropping his notepad and pen into the soup on the table. They quickly apologized, but the couple were nice about it, intent on listening to this transpire.

"Laf," Herc grinned, then remembered what he was there for. "Uh, uh... Lafayette. Beau, beau Lafayette. La première fois que je vous ai vu, vous alliez nettoyer ma maison. La première fois que je savais que je voulais passer ma vie avec vous, c'est quand vous m'avez dit que je coudais le pantalon que je travaillais ensemble parce que je ne pouvais pas arrêter de vous fixer. Bien sûr, je ne savais pas ce que vous disiez à l'époque, et ces pantalons ne se sont jamais remis." (The first time I sees you, you were going to be clean my home. The first time I knew that I wanted to spend life with you was during you told me I was sewing the pants I was working on together, because I couldn't stop staring at you. Of course, I didn't knowledge what you were saying at the time, and those pants never recovered.) Laf chuckled, and Herc went on.

"Je sais que c'est stupide, mais ... Je veux passer ma vie avec toi, Laf. Voulez-vous me marier pour toujours?" (I know it's stupid... but will you marriage me forever?)

The entire restaurant was dead silent, looking up to Laf for an answer. The french server blinked a couple of times, tears threatening to spill.

"Yes... I choose yes, m-my lovely sex appeal Hercules."

Herc laughed, tears gathering in his eyes as well. Laf then made a running leap off the second floor and into his arms. Thank the holidays that Herc didn't drop them... he'd rather not go through another breakup so soon.

"You learned English for me?" Herc asked, biting his lip.

"I would fight thousand wars for you, clean many many toilets for you... anything," Laf beamed up at Hercules, "Merry Noel, mon cherie." They kissed, and the restaurant cheered the night into a full-blown celebration for the two.

Christmas didn't suck after all, Herc supposed, twirling his new partner around.

❅❅❅

The moon began to peek out from behind the clouds as the children got ready to begin the performance. In the audience sat Alexander, Eliza, Angelica, Theodosia and Marcus.

"Theo!" Philip ran over to Theo, gift-wrapped mixtape in hand, but she didn't hear him as the music for the show began to start. The little Hamilton was forced to wait backstage as the first act went up. Meanwhile, James sneaked Thomas through the back door of the school, which was propped open with a brick for parents to get in.

"This way," he whispered, glancing around conspiratorially and slinking down the hallway.

"Mmm, this whole James Bond act has got me all tingly-"

"Shut up."

"Hey... I could have you assassinated for saying that," Thomas frowned.

"I said, _shut up_."

"Okay."

They made it backstage, and suddenly, they ran into a couple with a small child waddling in his costume-

"Hamilton," Thomas glared.

"Jefferson," Alex glared back, fists tightening.

"Mr. President?" Eliza asked, confused.

"Thomas," James warned.

"James!" Alex raised his eyebrows.

"James?" Thomas frowned.

"Philip!" Philip added his own name excitedly, before his parents quickly ushered him past and into the wings so they could go sit down. Thomas turned to his caterer.

"Whaaaat was that?"

"Alexander Hamilton."

"I know his damn name, I knew the assmunch in high school."

"Well, he's an old colleague of mine. I used to work for him before I worked for you."

"Did you fuck him?"

_"What?!"_

"Did you fuck Alexander Hamilton?"

"No!!"

"Did you let him fuck you?"

"Thomas," James blushed, "That's extremely rude."

"Don't lie James," Thomas narrowed his eyes, leaning in, "I _smell_ fear."

"Shhh, Thomas, they're starting."

Philip stood backstage, staring wide-eyed out at the performance. There were so many people...

"I don't want a lot for Christmas," Theodosia began to sing, and Philip may as well have been hit by Cupid's arrow. He was helpless for this girl, and the only thing he wanted was for his best friend to notice him in a different light. Theodosia sang the festive song like an angel, and by the end, Philip had messed up his hair from dancing too hard. At the end, when it was time for the next act, Philip ran onto the stage to hug her. Theo grinned as he pulled her aside.

"Did I do okay, Pip?!"

"You were dope, Theo," Philip grinned.

"Thanks," she giggled, and Philip thrust his hand out with the mixtape in it.

"This is for you. It's stupid and you'll probably hate it, but-"

"A gift for me?" she asked, and Philip nodded proudly.

"But don't open it until you're home and you can listen to my sick beats."

"Well... I made you this card," she murmured bashfully, and thrust it into his hands. Philip nearly fell over. Just then, the next number of Jingle Bell Rock began, and they got into position.

"Look at our son," Alexander whispered to Eliza, taking her hand. She stilled, keeping her gaze fully focused on Philip. On stage, Philip began his beatbox solo, and Angelica whistled.

"That is _my_ nephew right there!" she called, raising both her arms in respect, and Philip bounced happily onstage at the praise.

"Nobody'll find us back here," James hissed.

"It seems kind of loud and busy, do you think-" Thomas whispered.

"No, I told you, I know this place-"

"Jemmy, I can hear the crowd-"

"We're backstage, trust me-"

"Fine... if you say so... let's get to sucking face, then-"

"Thomas, what're you- mmmm..."

"THANK YOU! GOODNIGHT AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!" the principal called, and the back curtain parted to reveal...

"Mmmph, mmm-"

"MmmMMmmm, Thmmsssmmmm..." Noticing the silence, both men pulled out of their kiss, only to find the entire school audience was staring at them.

"Oh," James squeaked.

"My god," Thomas droned.

"What... do... we... do... Thomas?" James gritted out.

"Smile and wave, James... smile and wave," Thomas whispered, and grinned his charming smile, waving out at the crowd. They got a few cheers, and soon, the place was applauding again, letting the two dash off into the wings.

"Jesus," Alex muttered from the audience, "I can almost see the headline for that one."

Everyone began to file out, the Christmas spirit alive and thriving among families. Alexander would have felt the same way... if he didn't have an inkling something was wrong with his wife.

"'Liza? Babe, you okay?" he asked, squeezing her hand. Angelica informed them she was off to find Philip and bring him back so he didn't get lost in the sea of children. Eliza took in a breath, and pulled him aside to the school lobby by the fountains.

"Alexander," she murmured, and Alex frowned. She never said his full name like that.

"Yeah...?"

Eliza took another deep breath, and looked at the ceiling. "What... what would you do..." Alex leaned in a little, expectantly. "What would you do if you found a necklace, and assumed it was for you, but it turned out it really... wasn't?"

Alexander's face changed. He went pale, his eyes widening, and his lips parted frantically. "Eliza, baby, wait-"

"What if..." she continued, tearing up, "You knew some young, sexy woman was wearing it tonight instead of you?"

"Please, just listen-"

"Would you stay? To find out if it was just a necklace? Or... or a necklace and sex?" Her breath caught. "Or maybe, the worst of all, a necklace and love?"

Alexander was tearing up too, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He looked destroyed, and it killed Eliza to watch, but it also infuriated her. What right did _he_ have to be crying?

"I'm so... so sorry," he finally choked out shakily, looking down. She could see the shame and guilt and hurt on his face, but it didn't ease her pain any more to see him profess his remorse. She just felt... numbed by it.

"Red really was her colour, Alex. I'll give you that." Alex let out a little sob, and just then, Philip came bounding out, hand in hand with Angelica.

"Ma! Pops! What'd you think, huh?!" he shouted, jumping up and down.

"Oh, Philip!" Eliza beamed, picking him up and squeezing him, "You were amazing, I was just star struck watching you up there!"

"Really?!"

"Yes, yes yes, you tore it up, _fam_!" She inhaled deeply, waving the tears away as Philip skipped over to Alex.

"Pops! What'd you think?!"

"You... you simply outshone the star on the top of our tree, Philip," Alexander breathed, hugging him tightly, and Angelica looked at her sister for an explanation. Eliza just watched her husband hug her son, and wondered what the New Year would bring for this relationship.

Thomas and James scurried back into the presidential limo, and drove back to the White House... there were too many empty rooms in the place, and not enough Christmas Eve to use them all. Philip opened up his card from Theo in the car ride home, and his little heart nearly stopped at the six words written inside with a little drawing of a Christmas angel...

_All I want for Christmas is you._

_-Yourz, Theo_

At home, Theodosia listened to the mixtape, her mom coming in and sitting on her bed.

"Who's this from?" she asked, brushing her fingers through Theo's hair.

"The love of my life, mommy," she sighed, flopping back on her bed next to her mom.  

Theodosia smiled wistfully, staring out the window. "Merry Christmas, baby. Go to sleep, so Santa can come."

"Can Santa bring me a person for Christmas, mommy?"

"I severely doubt it."

"Oh," Theo whispered, thinking of Philip, "I'll just have to believe he liked my card, then."

Theodosia kissed her forehead, and turned off the light.

"Ready for bed?" Marcus asked her, and Theodosia nodded.

"Yeah."

** One Year Later **

The arrivals gate at the airport was packed on Christmas day... and everyone was overjoyed to see each other.

"Hey! How was Disney World?!" Aaron laughed, and Theo grinned up at him.

"The best, Uncle Aaron, the best! Goofy said hi to me, and I got a picture with Elsa!"

"Amazing," Aaron smiled, hugging her, and he shook hands with Marcus.

"Hey- nice to see you're warming up to her," Mark mumbled in his ear. Aaron chuckled.

"I guess I finally realized what I was missing. So, you tired out from that trip?"

"Fucking exhausted," Marcus whispered with an eye roll, "If I hear It's A Small World one more time- Theodosia, there you are! Babe, Aaron came to see us in!"

"Hey," she grinned, a pair of green and red mickey ears still on her head, "I got you a gift, Aaron!"

He grinned, hugging her. "You shouldn't have, Theo."

"Yeah," she laughed, "I kinda had to." It was a little Beauty and the Beast pocket watch, and Aaron's eyes widened.

"I... love it. Thank you so much."

"You always said how Belle was the hottest princess, so," Theodosia grinned, shrugging. Marcus did a double take.

"Wait, didn't you guys meet through me?"

Theo kissed him on the cheek. "Let's get the car and go home, babe, hm?"

"Yeah. Merry Christmas, A-a-ron!"

"Yeah, same to you," Burr waved, staring down at the watch. "Merry Christmas."

Over at the other end of departures, George came out with four very affectionate guys draping themselves over him. Samuel raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, and George took off his crown-shaped sunglasses. "Samuel, meet our new staff for the mansion!" Samuel dropped his stern gaze and clapped excitedly.

"Oh yay, George, _yay_!"

"Yay indeed, ooh!"

From the middle of the arrivals and accompanied by ten bodyguards, Thomas came down the ramp, dragging a rollable, hot pink suitcase with him. "So what'd I miss, y'all?" he smirked, and spotted his fiancé.

"Jemmy!!" he screeched, and pounced into the arms of the small, turtleneck wearing man that was standing at the front of the crowd with a sign that said, _"Welcome home, Mr. President!"_ He nearly fell over, supporting Thomas in his arms.

"T-Thomas!" he choked out, his knees wobbling, "G-Good to see you, darling!"

"Oh hooo, you have no idea what I'm gonna do to you later," he growled a little too loudly, "I've been off in Paris for _way_ too long, rawr." An old woman stared at them from a few paces away, and Thomas cleared his throat. "Afternoon, ma'am. Happy Holidays to you and yours!"

To the left, Eliza and Philip were waiting for Alexander and John to get off the plane. When they did, they came right over.

"Alex," Eliza smiled warmly, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, 'Liza!"

"How was Nevis?"

"Good, awesome... it was nice to reconnect with some of my roots, you know?"

"For sure."

"Life's good?" Alex asked, "Angelica and Adrienne are fine?"  

"Yeah," Eliza continued to smile, "They visit all the time- we wouldn't have it any other way. And life with you?"

"It's fine, yeah... finally put a ring on John," he chuckled, and John smirked with a little wave. "It was cool showing him where I came from."

"Congratulations," she smiled at the two of them, "Philip's so excited to have two dads to visit on weekends."

"Yeah!" the ten year old added, hugging the legs of John and Alex. John ruffled his hair, and Eliza hugged Alex.

Over to the right, Laf grinned, twirling around the airport as they made it in with Herc.

"France is magical in the winter!" they sighed, wrapping their royal blue scarf around their husband, "We must go back at least four times a year!"

"Anything for you," Herc grinned, sliding his arm around Laf. "You sure you're okay with leaving your family there to move back here to America?"

"Of course! It is a new adventure, and I am ready to brave anything with you by my side! Unless we come face to face with your treacherous brother... eh..." he read smudged writing on his hand. "Hugs Mummigan."

"Damn, you've become a meme," Hercules muttered, and Laf quirked his head.

"Excuse?"

"Nothing, honey. Let's beat the traffic and go home."

Among every story that the arrivals gate tell at Christmas time, everyone is special in its own right... the holidays are times for love, and love, in all of its forms, is always, _always_ around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted so desperately to make Marliza the cute porn couple, but it didn't serve the storyline 3 I also thought of having the Burr/Theo/Mark storyline as Angelica/Alex/Eliza, but the one I found for them was even more fitting I think. 
> 
> Anyway, such concludes this seasonal advent (and with it, 2016)! Thanks to everyone who commented/subscribed/followed each day xxx Hope you had the best holidays ever. Much love to you all!


	26. Boxing Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bows, and ribbons, and so the balance shifts...  
> Guns and Ships, holiday style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Shhh, one more for the road) xx

Everyone give it up for America's favourite festive frenchman--!!!

_LAFAYETTE!_

I'm takin' reindeer by the reins, makin' icing jolly with red stains 

_LAFAYETTE!_

And I'm never gonna stop until I make 'em pop the corn we're using on the treetop

_LAFAYETTE!_

Watch me, I'm dancing, I'm prancing, I'm- 

_LAFAYETTE!_

Go to the North Pole for mulled wine,

I come back with real pine,  

and cake,

Be good for goodness sake!

(Won't rendezvous with Santa Clause, he can't catch us awake!) 

We can have Christmas in Yorktown, make them bright with cheer, but-

For this to succeed, we need somebody else here-

(I know)

_HAMILTON!_

Said he knows how to sing, ingenuitive and knows the Three Kings, I mean

_HAMILTON!_

So you're gonna have to use him eventually, what's he gonna do by the tree, I mean

_HAMILTON!_

No one has my good cheer or my holly, jolly holiday spirit!

_HAMILTON!_

You want gifts from Santa's sack?

(I need my right hand man back!)

Yeah, get your right hand man back, you know you gotta get your right hand man back, I know you gotta send the letter to the pole where it's chilly and cold but the sooner's the goal to get your right hand man back!

(Alexander Hamilton... gifts are waiting by the tree for you... and if you join us right now, together we can open all...

oh, Alexander Hamilton. There are presents addressed to you... if we don't get a lump of coal, maybe you'll get a cinnamon roll, Christmas will never be the same, Alexander...)


End file.
